


Varric Tethras Presents: The Lady and the Lion

by AuroraBorealia, LadyNorbert



Series: Lions of Grand Forest [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Varric Tethras Writes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraBorealia/pseuds/AuroraBorealia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: Near the end of "The Lady and the Lion," Varric sends the Grand Forest Villa family the book he wrote featuring them as characters. This is how Varric does a fairy tale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU of our other AU, "The Lady and the Lion." What's interesting is that after we finished writing this, we learned that there actually is a Grimm fairy tale by the same title - and some of the art that exists for it looks like it could be for our story! Yeah, we were a little freaked out by that.
> 
> We both love the 2017 live-action version of "Beauty and the Beast," so we borrowed heavily from it when we put this together. This is just us (and Varric) having some fun.

_To the Rutherford family,_

_I told you I was going to make that crazy story of yours into a book. I wasn’t expecting it to be a fairy tale, but hey, who am I to argue with inspiration? It’s based off of some old Orlesian yarn called “La Belle et la Bete” – I’ll give the Orlesians credit for this much, they do know their fairy tales. As promised, there’s two copies, one for you and one for that library you’re opening in the village._

_You may notice there have been quite a few creative liberties taken with your story, but the personalities are all very much there, trust me. And, since I know you want to read this to your kid as soon as they’re old enough to appreciate great literature, I made sure to keep it all squeaky clean. I even had a Chantry sister read it over for me and make sure it was up to par. (No, really, you can go to the Chantry in Denerim and ask for the girl that helped me – she was more than willing to lend a hand but she sure did talk a lot, that one, so I nicknamed her Silence. Nice girl, though.)_

_Congratulations on the birth of the kid, and for not being shipped off to war, and for the Little Mother not getting herself killed during that crazy stunt of hers. Everything that happens to you people is weird, you know. Feel free to write back and tell me what you think of this little pet project of mine._

_But until then, have an autograph._

_Varric Tethras_

 

* * *

 

** Prologue **

Once upon a time, in the land of Ferelden, there was a soldier brave and proud who rose through the ranks and soon became known throughout the country as “The Lion of Ferelden”. Although he had the admiration of his countrymen and the respect of his king, the soldier was nevertheless deeply unhappy, for he was haunted by memories of his time in the service and felt he did not deserve the favors he was shown. But the king disagreed, and one day, when a centuries old treaty between Ferelden and Ostwick came due to be renewed, the soldier found himself suddenly and unexpected elevated to the status of Lord. He was given a grand villa in the forest, flanked with servants, and, as per the terms of the treaty, betrothed to a beautiful young noblewoman from the Free Marches. But although this life would have been paradise to some, to the soldier it was torture. He was no Lord, and he neither wanted nor thought he deserved the noble life he had been handed. As days turned to weeks and he was coached in how to be lordly, the soldier steadily felt more and more disgusted with himself and the whole situation, despite the insistence of those around him that he was doing the best he could.

But fate had other plans in mind, as fate often does, and one dark and stormy night it made its plans known. A woman, a fellow soldier he had long thought dead, appeared on the doorstep of his manor, and the soldier was shocked and horrified. He sent her away, but she revealed she had a dark secret – a spell that would make his new life the burden he thought it to be, rather than the blessing others had tried to tell him it was. Without warning, she enacted her wicked spell and used the soldier’s own nickname against him.

“The nation has deemed you their Lion and so now a lion you shall be,” she said with a sneer, disappearing into the gloom as the soldier transformed into his namesake beast.

Her spell cast icy tendrils through the house, and soon every inhabitant was under its sway. The soldier’s siblings and servants and friends alike soon all became enchanted objects to fill the empty house. With the house placed under this curse, the spell cast its way through the country, and soon everyone had forgotten all about the Lion of Ferelden who had been made a lord in the forest. The nobles of the land forgot all about the betrothal, those who had loved the inhabitants of the villa soon shrugged them off as a nagging forgetfulness that sometimes lived in their minds, and even the lady to whom the soldier was due to be married forgot about her duty.

But the soldier-turned-sorceress had also left behind an enchanted rose with one stipulation – if the Lion could learn to love another soul before the last petal fell, and be loved by them in return, the curse would be broken. However, this loophole caused the Lion nothing but despair, for it illuminated his greatest weakness. How could he love another person when he didn’t even love himself? He and the inhabitants of the villa began to resign themselves to their cursed lives, to be forgotten forever by the outside world.

And yet, fate was not done with the sleepy villa in the woods. It still had other plans, as it often does …


	2. Chapter 2

“I still wish I knew what we were doing here,” said Lady Evangeline.

She and Mahanon Lavellan had come to Ferelden six months earlier - but neither of them could remember why. She was the youngest member of a noble family in the Free Marches, and he had been brought up alongside her as her protector. _Something_ had brought them to the land of the so-called Dog Lords, but their memories failed them as to what it could be, and no matter how many times she sent inquiries to her family, they always went unanswered.

“I’m starting to suspect,” she continued, “that we are under some kind of magical geas and we’re going to be forced to go along with the plot until we find out what it is.”

“Hmm...” Her elven companion looked ponderous. After a moment, he smiled impishly. “It could be worse, little lady - at least we’re not in Orlais!”

“There is that,” she agreed with a chuckle. “On the other hand, Orlais doesn’t have Samson.” She made a distasteful expression and shook her head.

“True.” The smile morphed into a slight sneer and he likewise shook his head, snorting derisively. “Well, what do you think, little lady? Should we try to figure this out or do we just allow ourselves to be swept along with… whatever this is?”

“I’m half afraid to try to figure it out,” she admitted. “Everybody here in Redcliffe already thinks we’re half-crazy because we don’t know why we’re here. If we actually start working on the problem… I don’t know. Maybe we should - I can’t stay in this poor provincial town much longer, I’ll start to go as crazy as they think I am.” She half-smiled. “Of course, they also think I’m crazy for ignoring Samson. So their judgment isn’t the most sound. Did you have something in mind?”

“As I see it, we have two options - we either go back home or we strike out to see what we find,” he said with a shrug. “We can’t stay here. For a start, I’m starting to think these people have never seen a bookseller’s shop in their lives, which in and of itself is enough to make leaving a good idea. And what’s more, we just don’t belong here.”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed. “Maybe you should go and make the arrangements for our ship’s passage back to Ostwick. I’ll stay here and pack up the house.”

Mahanon’s eyes narrowed at that. “Will you be all right? Samson seems to be on the prowl here of late. I don’t really like the idea of you being here alone …”

“I think I can hold my own against him. I could always bake him a deathroot berry pie if he gets too annoying…”

“Oh! And here I was going to offer to leave a weapon with you, but I see you have everything under control,” he chuckled. “Have you been giving this a lot of thought?” he added, still laughing.

“Not exactly, but I was reading one of my herbal guides and it included the story of the Tevinter courtesan who did that, and it made me laugh,” she admitted.

“Well, we’ll keep that as a backup plan,” he said with a smile, before placing a hand on her shoulder. “All right then. Be careful. I’ll be back soon.”

“You be careful too. These people aren’t always the friendliest toward elves.”

“Don’t I know it,” he replied, shaking his head. “Yet another reason why we should probably get out of here. But I’ll be fine, little lady. Count on it.”

* * *

For the first several hours of Mahanon’s absence, all was well. Evvy remained at home, with her nose buried in a book or giving her sketchbook a workout. But the following day, she went to the market to buy food - just enough to hold her until they were ready to leave - and encountered Samson brandishing a bouquet of flowers as if they were weapons.

“For your dinner table! Shall I join you this evening?”

“...sorry, not this evening.”

“Oh. Busy?”

“You could say that.” She wanted to tell him that they were leaving, but until Mahanon returned, she didn’t feel exactly safe mentioning it. Instead, she improvised. “I’ve invited some of the women of the village to dine with me. I’m going to teach them to read.”

“ _What_? Whatever for?”

“Because educated parents have educated children, and ‘a learned child is a blessing to her parents and onto the Maker,’” she replied sweetly.

“The only children you should be concerned with are your own.”

“Oh, I’m… not ready for children.” She started walking away, but of course he followed.

“Perhaps if you found the right man…”

“I haven’t.”

“Look again. He could be right in front of your eyes and you don’t know it.”

“Samson - I am not going to marry you.” She came to a full stop and looked at him seriously. “I’m sorry.” And with that, she fled.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mahanon was finding it more and more difficult to keep his promise that he would return to his friend quickly and in perfect health... mostly because he had no idea where he was. He had begun taking the path he was almost certain led to the docks, but he must have made a wrong turn. It seemed unlikely - after all, Redcliffe was not a very big place and he was a skilled navigator - and yet what other option could there be?

“Do you recognize this path, Maxwell?” he remarked to his horse as they rode along a narrow avenue flanked by gnarled trees. “Because I don’t.”

The longer he rode, the worse the weather was beginning to become. As he approached a fork in the road, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck a nearby tree, thereby blocking the less nefarious-looking path and frightening both horse and rider.

“You know, I’m starting to think Evvy’s right in her theory that we’re part of some sort of magical plot,” he muttered and begrudgingly led his horse down the dark path.

As he continued on, the weather became even worse and soon he realized a fine mist of wet snow was falling around him… despite it being early summer.

“All right, what kind of ridiculous fairy story is this?” he huffed.

It was at this point that he thought it might be smart to turn around before the strange storm got worse or something found him in these unforgiving woods. Normally, the elf would have been worried about wolves, but everyone knows the Hinterlands have more bears than should be allowable by law, and that was reason enough to turn around, the storm notwithstanding. But the thought had no sooner entered his head when he heard a growl behind him and turned to see a small army of bears pelting through the treeline behind him. Cursing under his breath, Mahanon urged his horse down the slick path, the beasts following after him like he owed them money. It took every effort to get away unscathed and the only reason he was able to do so was because he crossed a bridge - a bridge the bears did not seem eager to cross, for some reason - and came to the base of a massive estate. But he wasn’t about to question it and merely counted his blessings as he got away.

“Interesting,” he said to himself. “No one said there was an estate here. Why wouldn’t the villagers mention it?”

Still, regardless of what it was or why no one saw fit to talk about it, an estate was an estate and that meant shelter from the wild storm and the even more wild bears. And so, Mahanon began to make his way up to the mysterious villa.

“There, my friend,” he said, spotting the open stable. “Let’s get you settled here - there’s food and water, and a blanket to ward off that chill. Get some rest, we’ll be on our way in the morning.” With that, he made his way up the stone stairs to an entrance hall of sorts, with torches flaring into existence as he approached. “Right, because _that’s_ not ominous or anything,” he muttered. But given the choice between bloodthirsty future carpets and not tripping over things in the dark, he supposed it was the better option to see what else the place had to offer.

He walked inside to find an estate that had obviously seen better days. The place looked utterly empty except for a few random household knick-knacks. They were well made knick-knacks, sure - such as the still-ticking clock and the ornate candelabrum that sat on the far table - but otherwise there appeared to be nothing of any great use or value scattered through the space. There also seemed to be no one living in the place and he found himself wondering if it was abandoned when he heard a quiet voice.

“Oh? A tall, dark, and handsome stranger arrives! Who could he be, I wonder... why, Cassandra, are you ticking faster than usual?”

“Shut. _Up_.”

“I’m… I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” Mahanon decided after a moment. “Yeah. That seems like the best idea.”

In an upper courtyard that was mysteriously devoid of the falling snow, he found a table laid out with some hot soup and other good things, and a single chair pulled itself away from the table as he approached. “Ooookay, that’s... weird,” he said slowly. “Little lady won’t believe me when I tell her about this.” But his stomach growled at the sight and smell of food, and despite his every instinct telling him _don’t be stupid_ , he sat down and started to eat.

He got through about five mouthfuls or so before the teapot began talking.

“Dorian said we had a guest! Oh, poor man, you look half frozen. Can I get you anything else?” it inquired in a sweet, almost motherly tone. “Well, I can’t get it myself, of course. But I can ask the others to bring you anything you need.”

“You can… talk?” Mahanon asked slowly.

“Oh, right, I can imagine that might be a bit unnerving, I apologize. But yes, we all can. Thank goodness the spell didn’t take that away or this place would have become very lonely very fast,” she replied cheerfully. “My name is Mia, by the way. Pleased to meet you.”

“...charmed, I’m sure. Uh. Where am I?”

“Of course, where are my manners? Welcome to Grand Forest Villa, ser. I must say, I’m surprised anyone managed to find us out here. What brought you this way?”

“Well, that’s a mildly improbable story which is rapidly becoming more and more improbable with every passing minute.” Mahanon wasn’t sure if he was afraid of the teapot or of the fact that he seemed to be losing his mind. “Would you please... excuse me?” And abruptly, he bolted from the table, stumble-running back down to the stable to retrieve Maxwell. “Come on, old friend, _let’s get out of here._ ”

In his haste to depart the villa, however, the elf did not notice he was being watched by a pair of vivid brown eyes. The eyes studied him, tracking his progress as he fetched his horse and began to depart.

“Here we are... good boy... let’s turn back and... oh,” he said, pausing. An open doorway led into what was apparently a greenhouse of sorts, as it was far less bitterly cold than any other part of the exterior. Growing inside were all manner of herbs. “Ev would love this. Is that... royal elfroot? She’s been itching to grow some of that and none of the specimens she’s found have had any good seeds,” he remarked to the horse. “Maybe I can just take a small cutting... for her...” He took a little knife from his belt and delicately removed a bit of the plant.

* * *

The reader is advised to remember that taking anything from a home which is not their own is generally to be regarded as a Bad Idea. However, it could be argued that Mahanon was still operating under the whims of that magical geas his friend mentioned earlier. It honestly makes more sense to blame the plot.

* * *

Well, whatever the reason, it was an action that did not escape the notice of the mysterious pair of eyes, which narrowed in anger as they watched. “Bandit...” the voice that belonged to the eyes rumbled to itself, watching the unexpected visitor stow his ill-gotten gains. And with that, the eyes revealed themselves to be set into the head of a fearsome lion, that burst from its hiding spot with a great roar, blocking the elf’s path of escape.

Maxwell reared, Mahanon falling to the ground, and in his terror the normally very loyal steed dashed away. His rider was left staring up at the beast. “I... I... I...”

“Enough!” The voice that came from the lion’s mouth was deep and growling, yet surprisingly human at the same time. “You’ve plagued the wrong family, bandit.”

“I-I’m sorry, I was just...  _you can talk too?_ ”

“Of course I can, you - wait a moment. What do you mean _you can talk too_?” The lion’s brown eyes turned stormy, showing that Mahanon had just said the wrong thing. “Were you _in the house_?”

“Uh - only for a few minutes - I was lost -”

The lion let out another ear-splitting bellow of rage. “Vile thief! I will _not_ let you hurt them! And I won’t let you endanger them by returning to your village to expose them to the world...”

“No, no, I’d never tell anyone!” He looked up at the lion in mingled terror and exasperation. “I mean, _who would believe me_?”

“That’s a chance I cannot take, bandit,” the lion snarled, rounding on Mahanon. “That’s a chance I cannot take.”

“No, please!”


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the village, Evvy - still a bit disgruntled from her confrontation with Samson - was industriously packing as she’d promised Mahanon she would do. When she heard the commotion outside of her little cottage, however, she emerged to find Maxwell wandering loose. “Max?! What are you - _where is Mahanon_?” She grabbed the bridle and stared into his black eyes. Something told her that the horse had been absolutely terrified very recently, and that was not, to Evvy’s mind, particularly good news. She had to let him rest a little, but she needed to find Mahanon.

Within an hour, Evvy was pelting away from the village on the very agitated Maxwell, who took her along the same route that Mahanon had followed. When she reached the bridge leading to the villa, she had a very similar reaction to her dear friend; how had they never heard of this place? “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unconsciously mimicking Mahanon and sending Maxwell into the stable. She lowered her cloak’s hood as she climbed the stairs, glancing at the strange building with trepidation and awe.

As she entered, a similar scene played out to the one that had occurred when Mahanon arrived. She had barely made it a few steps when a musical voice, the type that could only be found in minstrels, whispered. “Look, Cass! A young lady!”

“Yes, Dorian, I can see that,” came the terse reply, the quiet voice heavily Nevarran accented. “I lost my hands, not my eyes.”

“The second visitor in two days, how strange. Oh! What if she’s the one? The one who will break the spell?”

“ _Be quiet!_ ”

“Who’s there?” Evvy cried, spinning around and trying to spot the source of the voices. “Where are you?”

At once, the voices fell silent, leaving Evvy alone in the abandoned room with nothing but the clock and the candelabrum... and a noise from upstairs.

“Mahanon?” Hoping against hope, she seized the candelabrum and rushed further into the manor, trying to find the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from one of the watchtowers, and it was by no means easy to climb the ladders while clutching her light source. “Non!”

From where he was being kept, Mahanon heard a voice that filled him both with joy and desperate horror. “Evvy!” he called, getting to his feet as she came into view. “Evvy, you have to leave! This villa is _alive_.”

She peered at him carefully, lifting the candelabrum to better illuminate his face. “Sweetie, did you hit your head when you fell off the horse?”

He huffed in exasperation. “I told it no one would believe me if I tried to spread this story around,” he muttered to himself before turning back to her. “I mean it, little lady, you have to get out of here. Go, forget about me, get back to Ostwick as fast as any ship can possibly carry you. No arguments!”

“Out of the question! I am not leaving you! Come on!” She set down the candelabrum on a nearby rickety table and moved to help her friend to stand. “Are you badly hurt? Can you climb down this ladder?”

Before he could respond, a roar echoed through the estate and Mahanon’s eyes widened. “Evvy, go. _Now_!” he commanded, leveling her with a hard stare, his gaze twinged with a bit of panic.

“The heck is that noise?” She was less frightened than bewildered.

“The lion,” Mahanon replied, his voice somewhere between a groan and a matter-of-fact sigh. “And no, I did not hit my head when I fell off of Maxwell, thank you very much.”

“Okay, give me a minute to understand this,” she said. “We’re in an elegant villa in the middle of the woods, which _no one_ in Redcliffe has ever mentioned, and you’re telling me that it’s alive and there’s a lion here, even though lions aren’t even native to Ferelden? Did I miss something?”

He shrugged slightly. “Hey, I didn’t say it made sense, I’m just telling you what I know. I think it’s a bit of that aforementioned magical geas, I don’t really pretend to understand it.”

“I knew something weird was happening. Look, let’s get out of here - maybe we can get out of the villa before the lion notices us. Assuming it hasn’t already eaten Maxwell, that is,” she added worriedly.

“Thanks, Ev, that’s a cheerful thought,” said Mahanon, leading her out of the tower. They didn’t get very far, however, when a great shadow loomed over their path.

“So this is the story of how I died,” Evvy muttered. More loudly, she asked, “Who’s there? Come into the light!”

“I should be asking you the same question,” growled the lion’s voice from the shadows. “Who are you? What are you doing in this villa?”

“I - I’ve come to get my friend.”

“Your friend? Your friend is a thief!” The voice spat. “They warned me these woods were crawling with bandits.”

“He’s not a thief!” she cried.

At that, the lion chuckled, a strange rumbling sound. “I may have lost much since coming here, my lady, but I have not yet lost my mind. I saw him take herbs from the greenhouse. And I know he was in this house.”

“If he took anything from the greenhouse, it was for my sake,” she said. “I’m the gardener. Take me in his place.”

“Evvy, no!” Mahanon grabbed her arm. “I’m not going to let you do that. I promised I would protect you, I won’t leave you alone in Ferelden in this mad villa!”

“Maybe it’s time I protected you, Non.”

“Evvy...” His voice broke slightly as he regarded her.

For the first time since the conversation began, the lion stepped out of the shadows, likewise regarding the lady that stood before him. He was silent for a moment, then snorted derisively. “Now, are you certain you wish to take his place, seeing the beast who will be your captor?”

She looked up at him, genuinely alarmed but not exactly afraid. “A talking lion. That... that sounds about right. Everything that’s happened since we got to this country is weird. Yes, I’ll take his place.”

“Maker’s breath, I wasn’t _always_ a lion,” he huffed, but shook his maned head, getting back on topic. “Very well. But if I find out that any word of what you’ve seen here makes it back to Redcliffe, bandit, I will...” His mouth twitched in deliberation, but he came up empty. “Just...  _don’t_. For your sake and hers.”

Evvy gave Mahanon a fierce hug. “Go. I’m not afraid, Non,” she whispered. “And I’ll find a way to escape. Just go.”

“This isn’t over, Ev. I’m going to try and find a way to fix this,” he whispered back, then pulled away to watch her with watery eyes. “My brave little lady. Be careful, you hear me?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” she asked with a similar emotional expression. “Don’t worry about me. Everything will be fine.”

The lion, who had been strangely indulgent of the friends’ goodbyes, now padded a few steps forward. “Go,” he said to Mahanon, his voice low. “Just go. Burden my family no longer.”

* * *

Evvy watched Mahanon ride away with tears in her eyes. She’d done the right thing, of that she was certain - but she felt empty inside. He was her constant companion, and now she was replacing him with... uh...

Steadying herself, she turned to look at the lion. “And how shall I address you?”

He looked slightly surprised at such a question. “I... well, you... you can... Cullen. My name is Cullen.”

“Cullen.” She paused, frowning. “That name sounds familiar for some reason. All right, well - in the spirit of politeness - I’m pleased to meet you, serah. More or less, anyway. My name is Evangeline; you may call me that, or Evvy if you prefer.”

At this, Cullen’s eyes went wide. “E-Evangeline Trevelyan, by any chance?”

She took a step backwards. “How... how do you know that?”

“I, uh... never mind. Of course you don’t remember,” he stammered hastily, before adding a bit more quietly. “Of course the curse made sure of that.” He made a noise that in a human would have been akin to clearing his throat, but in his current form sounded like an odd kind of purr. “Anyway, not important. I... uh... I suppose you should have a room.”

“A room?” she repeated, still trying to puzzle out how he knew her and why his name rang such a vague bell. “You don’t... you’re not going to... put me back in the watchtower, then?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I... I may be a beast, but I’m not a monster.” His tone was a bit pained. “Well... at least I try not to be.”

She felt an unexpected surge of pity. “I see. Um. All right... lead the way.”

He did so, bringing her to the guest wing of the large villa and stopping by one of the many doors. “I think here should be fine... that is, if it’s all right with you, my lady.”

“I’m sure this will be fine,” she repeated. His deference to her was astounding, considering how cold he’d been with Mahanon. Did it have something to do with his knowing her name? Why did she feel like she should be remembering something which completely eluded her? “...thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, almost shyly. “You’ll uh... forgive me, but you’ll have to open the door yourself. Obviously. My apologies. If you require anything, let me - _us_ \- know.”

“Us?” she repeated. “Us who?”

“Well, if there’s a better timed cue for an entrance, I can’t think of one!” A new voice suddenly cut in. After a moment, the candlestick from before came hobbling in. “I shall choose to ignore the fact that everyone abandoned me in the watchtower earlier and start anew. Hello, my dear lady. Dorian of house Pavus at your service. How do you do?”

Evvy, who had jumped backwards slightly in not-exactly-delighted surprise when the candlestick started talking, peered at him in bewildered wonder. “I’m starting to see what Non meant when he said the villa was alive,” she murmured. “Uh. How do you do, serah?”

“Oh, I’ve been better, you could say,” he chuckled slightly, gesturing with his lit “arms”. “But it would not be very gentlemanly of me to complain, so I shan’t.”

“Really? That’s new,” added a second voice as the clock Evvy had seen downstairs likewise joined the fray. “I thought complaining was one of your hobbies. To answer your question, my lady, the _us_ is the rest of the household. Since you’ll be staying... I suppose you’ll have a chance to encounter everyone in due time.”

“This is... this is... I don’t have a word for any of this.” Evvy sounded equal parts amused, baffled, and frustrated. “I _told_ Non we were trapped in some kind of weird fairy story or something!” She looked from clock to candlestick, then back at the lion. “Am I going to turn into something too?”

“No, no, just us,” Cullen assured her. “It’s a bit of a long story as to how we got like this. But suffice to say, _you’ll_ be fine. I promise you that.”

“Well... all right.” Dubious, she opened the door to her new room. Her first thought was that it was very beautifully appointed. Her second thought was that her wardrobe was _way too excited_ to see her, and she couldn’t suppress a shriek of alarm as it trilled a greeting. “Uh. Hi.”

“A guest!” the excited wardrobe exclaimed. From the sound of it, she - before she became a wardrobe - was Antivan. “A real guest! Oh, how wonderful! Forgive me, my lady, I would bow, but the drawers make it very hard to bend. My name is Josephine, I’m so very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“How do you do? Forgive me, this is all very... impossible.”

“I quite understand,” she said sympathetically. “We all felt much the same way ourselves until it happened - now ‘impossible’ is what makes up our everyday. Before this, we were just normal people like you, my lady.”

The lion - Cullen - seemed to have wandered off, but as Evvy sat down on the bed, the other objects began making their way into the room. “Is everything here alive?” she wanted to know. “Do I need to worry about insulting something by not talking to it?”

They all sort of chuckled fondly at that. “Not everything,” said a feather duster who introduced herself as Rosalie. “It’s just us. And my other siblings, of course - you’ll meet them when you go downstairs, I’m sure.”

“Your siblings?” Evvy repeated. “You’re a family?”

“Mmhmm,” she said brightly. “Well, me, Mia, Branson, and Cullen are the family by blood. The rest are family by choice.” As if to highlight that, she gave Dorian a playful little “dusting” with her feathers. He chuckled, swatting her affectionately.

“Cullen,” Evvy repeated. “The lion. Is your brother. I - that is - I...” In spite of herself, she suddenly laughed. “Forgive me, I don’t see much of a family resemblance.”

They all likewise laughed, Rosalie the hardest. “Oh, I don’t know, we’re both quite fluffy,” she giggled, giving a little twirl. “Ah, maybe one day you can see us when we’re normal again.”

“Normal again,” said the clock, grumpily. “Do we even dare to believe we will _ever_ be normal again?”

“As you can see, Cassandra is our resident ray of sunshine,” Dorian remarked, giving Cass a sideways glance.

“Can you tell me more about this... spell, or whatever it is?” Evvy asked. “Why did you become the things you became? Why is _he_ a lion?”

“Ah, yes,” said Rosalie with a sigh. “The spell turned all of us into objects to fill the empty house - what we became reflected our personalities, or our jobs, or even whatever we just happened to be doing. My sister Mia was turned into a teapot just because the last thing she did before the spell was pour each of us a cup of tea. As for Cullen... well, he was a soldier and they called him ‘the Lion of Ferelden’, so...”

“Basically, our friendly neighborhood maleficar turned out to be both an enchantress and a comedienne,” Dorian said, his tone slightly bitter. “Dealing both in spells and cruel irony.”

“But why would someone put a spell on you in the first place?”

They all exchanged a glance. “Well...” Rosalie murmured, "when my brother was a soldier, there were some people who... disagreed with some of his choices. Some people who put him through some rather unpleasant things. The woman who cursed us was one of those people.”

Evvy rubbed her head, which had started to ache slightly. “The Lion of Ferelden,” she repeated. “I feel like... like that should mean something to me. It doesn’t, but it seems like it should. Is there any way to reverse the spell? I - I want to help you, if I can.”

“Well, there is _one_ way...” Cassandra began, but Dorian cleared his throat very deliberately and threw her a meaningful look. “But it’s nothing to concern you,” she amended.

“But you’re very kind to offer,” Josephine added sweetly.

* * *

With their new guest comfortably settled (as much as possible given the circumstances), most of the enchanted objects left her in Josephine’s company and made their way downstairs to see about arranging dinner for both her and the lord of the manor. “She’s pretty,” Rosalie chirped, “and very sweet. We’re lucky she found us!”

“We’d be luckier if she were to...” Dorian searched for a word. “ _Notice_ His Lordship, as it were.”

Mia, who had been listening raptly to the news she had missed from the upstairs, was wearing a slight smile. “It might be a bit early for that,” she said, still smiling. “But I will admit a similar thought might have crossed my mind too.”

“He seems taken with her, though,” Rosalie said encouragingly. “I haven’t heard him speak so politely in ages.”

“I shall say what everyone is thinking - the thing I said when she first arrived - is it possible she could be _the one_?” Dorian postulated.

Mia started to speak, but paused. “Cullen, there you are,” she said, seeing him lurking outside the kitchen door. “We were just talking about your... guest. What did you think of her?”

There was something strange in Cullen’s brown eyes - a combination of shock, shyness, and perhaps a little bit of anxiety. “I... she..... we… she’s my _fiancee_!” he blurted out after several seconds of silence.

The others looked at one another in alarm. “You... proposed already?” Rosalie blurted. “That’s rushing things a bit.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s - she’s - _her_! The noblewoman from the Free Marches I was betrothed to before the curse! Evvy is her!”

“ _That’s_ why she’s confused,” said Cassandra, comprehension dawning. “She keeps saying that she thinks certain details should mean something to her. The spell must have erased her memory of you, just as it did everyone else’s.”

“Well,” said Branson, the last of the Rutherford siblings, whose cursed form was that of a piano. “Holy smokes. Er, no offense, Dorian.”

“None taken,” the minstrel-turned-candlestick said with a shrug. “So, she quite literally is _the one_. The Maker certainly does work in mysterious ways.”

“But she’s so young,” said Mia. “We’ve been stuck this way for years, how can she still be so young?”

“Maybe... maybe it’s only been years from our point of view,” Dorian suggested. When the rest peered at him curiously, he scoffed. “Oh, please, I’m a bibliophile from Tevinter - you don’t think I’ve done the occasional bit of reading about ancient magic? Supposedly there are some spells that can make it seem like years have passed when mere weeks or months have passed in the outside world. If our sorceress was able to do all this to us _and_ make the entire world forget about us, surely she could do that too.”

“That makes sense,” Branson agreed. “I just hope that when the spell breaks, we all go back to the same ages we were when it started... now we just have to make sure the spell _does_ break. What are you planning to do, brother?”

“What am I planning to do?” Cullen repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “I have no idea! I didn’t even know how I was going to do this when I was _human_ , let alone now that I’m _this_. Who could ever learn to love a beast?”

“You were less beastly with her in the hallway a short time ago than I’ve seen you the entire time we’ve been cursed,” Cassandra snapped, in a way that only she could. “Build on that. _Deal. With. It._ ”

“Not exactly the way I would phrase it, but she’s right, Cul,” said Mia. “You can do this.”

“And if Dorian’s right and it really hasn’t been years in the outside world...” There was a small note of hope in Rosalie’s voice. “You know there are people that we long to see out there - people we had long since assumed moved on with their lives. But to think there might still be time to be with them... oh, Cul, please try.”

Cullen sighed at that, his eyes roving from each member of the family to the next. “All right, yes, you all have a point. Besides, she was supposed to be my wife anyway. Maybe at least now I have a chance to have it be... something real.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Branson. “Go invite her to join you for dinner. Maybe you can show her around the house.”

“Yes. Right. Dinner and a tour of the house. I think I can manage that,” he said, a bit hesitantly.

“Of course you can, my lord,” Dorian assured him. “Just don’t forget to be charming. And smile! No, no, wait, on second thought, don’t. It’ll be far better for all of us if you don’t.”


	4. Chapter 4

Evvy opened the window of her room and studied the exterior, trying to weigh her chances of being able to climb out with a sheet ladder or similar contrivance. Considering that she could almost touch the local waterfall from her casement, it seemed unlikely, especially when she watched the water crash onto some sharp-looking rocks at the base of the mountain. “Right. Not a good idea,” she muttered to herself. “Guess I’d better just… wait to see what opportunities come along.”

When she heard the knocking, she glanced uneasily at the door. “Uh… yes?”

“My lady Evangeline?” Cullen’s voice answered, sounding vaguely uncertain. “I... er... that is, I was wondering if you would like some dinner. To have dinner, that is, with me. As my guest. And then maybe I could... show you the house?”

“You’ve taken me as your prisoner and now you want to have dinner with me?” Evvy muttered to herself. “This is one strange geas we’re all under.” Out loud, so that she could be properly heard, she replied, “Uh... sure. I’ll... be out soon.”

“Really?” The shocked surprise in Cullen’s voice was obvious, but after a moment he gave a rumbling cough. “I mean, thank you. Thank you, my lady. Erm… Dorian will get you settled once you’re ready. I... I will meet you there directly.”

“Uh... okay.” Now she had a new dilemma - what exactly does one discuss over dinner with one’s captor? _Breathe. Remember, you volunteered to be the prisoner. Non was perfectly willing to stay here but no, you had to be the hero. So be heroic._ She picked up a hairbrush, double checked to make sure it didn’t have a personality, and started trying to make herself more presentable.

“Can I help?” Josephine offered cheerfully. “After all, I am both a wardrobe and a lady-in-waiting. It’s sort of my job twice over to help you get ready if you wish it.”

“Is... I don’t want to be rude... is there anything in you... to be worn?” Evvy asked dubiously.

Josephine giggled at that. “Oh, plenty of things. It’s a strange curse, my lady, probably best not to question it too much.” With that, several of her drawers opened to reveal more bolts of fabric than would seem possible. “Anything catch your interest? Ah, I wish I could wear clothes like these again.”

Fascinated, Evvy ran her hands over some of the material. “This is finer quality than anything I’ve ever seen,” she remarked. “Um. Do you have anything in green? It’s my favorite color.”

“Oh, green will be perfect! It will bring out your eyes!” Josephine gushed. “Give me but a moment…” She opened a few more drawers, a tiny sound of contemplation escaping her as she did so. “Ah! Here’s something. What do you think?”

“It’s almost too nice to wear,” Evvy said, a little embarrassed. “Do you think?”

“I think it would look beautiful on you, my lady,” she said, her tone genuine. “And it’s been too long since anyone in this house has been able to put on a pretty dress and go enjoy a nice dinner. You should absolutely wear it.” With a giggle, she added. “You’re the only one who can.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” To her surprise, the dress fit perfectly. “Hm. Think that’s part of the spell?” she joked weakly.

“Erm... perhaps indeed, my lady,” Josephine said cautiously. Being stuck in the guest room as she was, she had no way of hearing Cullen’s confession that Evvy was his intended, and the gossip circle hadn’t yet made its way up to share the news with her. But she was a clever woman, and she was beginning to come to the same conclusion the others had. “As I said, it’s a strange curse. Now, go enjoy that dinner. And uh... if you see Branson - that is, the piano - do tell him I said hello, won’t you?” If it was possible for a wardrobe to blush, she probably would have.

“Say hello to the piano. I will certainly do that. Thanks for the dress.” Evvy let herself out into the hall, and looked around in some confusion. _Where am I going?_

It was at that point that Dorian, whose timing everyone already knew to be the stuff of legends, came bouncing down the corridor. “Good evening, Lady Evangeline!” He called. “The lion of the manor sent me to get you settled in for dinner. Ah, and I see you and Josephine put your heads together to come up with an outfit. And a very lovely one at that.”

“Thank you. I... wasn’t sure what to wear to... a dinner like this.” She still looked a bit nonplussed. “This is all so strange.”

Dorian chuckled. “Yes. Quite. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this is how you had to first meet everyone. Doing a prisoner exchange for the life of your dearest friend is perhaps not what most people would consider starting off on the right foot,” he said, beginning to lead her down the hallway.

“It was worth it to save Non. At least Cullen is treating me better than he treated my friend,” she mused, a little peevishly. “He’s... hard to read, to be honest. He was absolutely menacing when we first met, and then suddenly he sort of turned into - if you’ll pardon the observation - a pussycat.”

Dorian laughed again, this time a bit more heartily. “Rather apt turn of phrase,” he said, then sobered. “He’s not a wicked creature by any stretch of the imagination - and when he was human he was certainly not a bad man. As for your friend, well - he came inside the house, not knowing what inhabited it, of course. Knowing Cullen, he was more upset over the fact that he came inside than that he stole the plant. His family is all that Cullen Rutherford has left, you see, and he blames himself for what happened to them.”

“I wish I knew why that name feels so familiar,” she murmured, following him. “But I take your meaning. Non didn’t mean any harm, I’m sure - he probably just wanted to get out of the cold.”

“I know he did,” Dorian said sympathetically as he began to navigate the stairs that led to the first floor. “And in his heart of hearts, the master knows that too. He just... sometimes the gravity of his situation makes him angry. We can all relate.”

Evvy considered that. “I imagine it must be very frustrating to be in his - your - predicament,” she allowed. “Well, if the spell does include me too, then maybe I’m here to help somehow. Even if I can’t break the spell, maybe I can… make it easier to bear, a little.”

“You’re too kind, my dear lady, thank you,” he replied. “And we shall do our best to make your time here as comfortable as possible. You may have started this journey as a de facto prisoner, but not now. Now, you’re our guest.”

“I’m your guest,” she repeated, smiling faintly. “That’s… kind of catchy.”

“It is, isn’t it? I think I can work with that. Hmm…” Keep in mind that, before he was a candlestick, the candlestick was a minstrel. And so, with very little prompting and an absurd, slightly improbable level of production value, he broke into a snappy (if not a bit over the top) musical number. The reader is invited to use their imagination regarding said musical number because, honestly, who has that kind of time? By the time it had finished, they had arrived downstairs amidst great fanfare.

* * *

“How many times,” grumbled the piano, which Evvy recalled was the other brother Branson, “have I asked you not to do musical numbers where I can’t accompany you? It’s bad enough I’m stuck as an instrument I never learned to play, but at least let me _try_.”

“Sorry, my friend, sorry,” Dorian replied, moving his limbs in a semblance of a bow. “Such is the curse of a musician, I must perform when the mood takes me. Never fear, I’m sure there will be another musical number coming up soon.”

“So...” Evvy glanced around for her ‘host.’ “What’s for dinner, if I may ask?”

“The master asked our headwoman Sereda to prepare you a Fereldan dish, butter soup,” Dorian said. “Don't ask us how she managed such a feat while under the effects of this curse. Best not to think about it too much.”

He led Evvy to the dining hall where Cullen sat waiting. As they entered, he got to his feet. “There you are. Did Dorian waylay you with another musical num-” He stopped abruptly at the sight of her in her green finery, blinking several times in stunned silence.

She lifted her eyebrows slightly, and fidgeted under the weight of his gaze. “Er... you were saying?”

He blinked for another second. Someone - possibly Branson, maybe Dorian - cleared their throat loudly, and having thus been broken from his reverie, Cullen gave himself a shake. “Sorry, I - sorry.” He cleared his own throat, making that almost-purr noise yet again, except this time it sounded even more like a purr. “Anyway. I uh... please have a seat. It’s been a long time since the dining hall has been used like this.”

“Right. Thank you.” She really wasn’t sure how to interpret what had just happened, so she decided to try to forget about it. “This, um, this smells wonderful.”

“Good, I’m glad you think so.” Being a lion, it would have been difficult for him to sit on a chair, so he sat on the floor at the head of the table, looking awkward. “Hopefully it tastes as wonderful as it smells. It’s a household favorite - or, rather, it was.”

She nodded, and started to eat. “Oh. It’s very savory... I like it. We don’t have anything quite like this in the Free Marches.”

He seemed very pleased by that. “Well if you enjoy it, I will let Sereda know to make it more. Or - or if we can make anything from Ostwick for you instead, we will certainly try.”

“Thanks, that’s... that’s nice.” She picked up her napkin, watching him over the hem as she lifted it to her mouth. “Uh. Aren’t you eating?”

“Um... well, my lady, I can't... I can't exactly eat like a gentleman, you see.” He gestured downward with his head. “One of the many side effects of having paws. I didn't think that would be exactly... well, I didn't imagine you would want to spend your evening watching such a thing. I'll eat later.”

“Oh.” Evvy felt terribly embarrassed. “I... that is... sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

“No, no, don't apologize. This is all so strange I wouldn't expect you to think about it.” His lips twitched in a slight smile. “I didn't mean to make you feel awkward, my lady.”

She ate a few more spoonfuls, and then glanced at him again. “Forgive me, but... you’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, making a noise that seemed like a rueful chuckle. “That's my fault, my lady. I'm afraid the way we started was abysmal and I apologize. I've become rather... paranoid since this curse began. That's no excuse, but...”

“No, no, I understand why you’d be... on edge. Mahanon didn’t mean any harm, though, I’m sure of it. He’d never have trespassed here intentionally, and - well, I’m sorry about the plant.” She put her spoon in her mouth for a moment. “Raising the herbs... it’s been sort of keeping me busy while we’ve been here. We can’t remember what possessed us to come to Ferelden in the first place and it’s driving us both a bit mad.”

The words _your wedding_ almost tumbled out of his mouth in response, but he caught himself in time, swallowing hard. Instead, he chose to focus on another part of her statement. “Don't apologize - I shouldn't have done such a thing over a plant. I thought he was a bandit, and the idea that he had been inside and had possibly seen my family...” He shook his head and sighed. “But anyway. You raise herbs? That's very interesting. My sister Mia used to study the medicinal applications of herbs before the curse.”

“I’m not much use at that, myself. Maybe she can teach me a bit,” Evvy ventured hesitantly. “But I can grow them, yes. The healer in the village is pretty nearly my only friend besides Non, and she makes use of what I raise.”

“I’m sure Mia would enjoy that very much,” he said with a nod. “Maybe... maybe you can work in the greenhouse here, if you’d like. You can let us know if we’re missing anything.”

“I could take a look, sure. So... what do you do... all day?”

“Oh. Well, I read mostly. Rosalie knocks the books off the shelves for me,” he said with a fond chuckle. “I walk the estate at times I know no one will see me. Ah, sometimes I play chess against Dorian or Cass... I move the pieces with my nose.” He gave a little smile.

In spite of herself she giggled a bit. “I see. Well. I’m not the best player, but... I can offer myself as your antagonist sometimes if you want. And I love to read - if I’m not in the greenhouse, I’ll probably be in the library.”

His gaze registered a bit of delighted surprise. “I would... like that. And in that case, I think the library should definitely be the first stop on our tour later. I must ask - do you enjoy Genitivi?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so. Most of the historians are so dry - Genitivi’s just happy to explore and to share what he’s learned. He wants everyone to be as excited about history as he is.”

“And it truly does feel like reading a friend’s travel diary when you read his works,” Cullen said, sounding more and more delighted. “Or like a letter someone has sent you while they’re off exploring. My favorite is _Walking the Earth_ , personally.”

“ _Walking the Earth_ is a fun read. I read the section on Ferelden many times on the voyage here…” She glared at her bowl of soup. “I can remember _that_ , but not why I was on the boat in the first place. Sorry. It’s frustrating... you understand.”

“Oh, yes, that I do,” he said, giving her a look of sympathy. “I understand that all too well. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you stay? Why didn’t you go back to Ostwick the minute you knew something was wrong? Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased you didn’t, but still.”

“I -” She paused, a little taken aback by his last sentence. “Well, I… I don’t know. We thought maybe if we stayed a while, we could figure out what happened. We got to Redcliffe, and went to sleep in the inn, and then the next day all the memory we had of our purpose was gone. No one else knew why we were there either. We took a house and settled in… met the locals…” She made a face, then continued. “Finally, though, we decided to go. Mostly because of Samson. Mahanon was on his way to book passage for us when he came across your house.”

“Wait a moment, _Samson_?” Cullen asked, actually taking a step back in shock. “Raleigh Samson? He’s in the village?”

“That’s him, yes. Do you know him?”

“I do. I _did_. But it was a long time ago. I don't know if he'd even remember me, curse notwithstanding. I... I take it based on your tone that he's no friend of yours.”

“He... would like to be.” She looked distinctly uncomfortable. “That’s why Non wanted to leave. He was becoming more persistent about pressing his suit.”

Cullen blinked for a moment and then suddenly Evvy’s words clicked in his mind. “He’s… he’s trying to _court_ you?!” After another moment he was reminded of the fact that Evvy, of course, did not remember that she and Cullen were technically engaged, and thus it probably seemed like he was just being a strangely possessive cursed forest-dwelling lion. Therefore, he cleared his throat, shuffling his paws awkwardly. “I mean... that’s terrible. I’m... very sorry he’s putting you in that type of uncomfortable position.” _Says the beast that imprisoned her best friend and then kept her in an ill-conceived prisoner swap. Yes, I’m sure you’re making her much more comfortable,_ his brain reminded him unhelpfully.

“He hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle as yet, but with Mahanon out of town, I was... a little on edge when he tried to invite himself to dinner. And started talking about children.” She flushed. “Going back to Ostwick to get away from him may have been a little excessive, but it seemed like a wise idea on the whole.”

“Oh, Maker, he started talking about _children_? That sounds...” He gave a little growl to register his distaste for the matter. “I don’t blame you for wanting to get as far away as possible.”

“Not that I don’t _want_ children,” Evvy clarified. “But I certainly don’t want _his_ children. There are some women in the village who would cut off their left arms to be with him - let him choose one of those.”

If it was possible for a lion to blush, Cullen would have at Evvy’s first statement. But if there was one lucky thing about being a lion, it was that pink cheeks weren’t really an option, so he nodded slightly. “I’ll pray he does, for your sake,” he said, watching her for a moment. “So, uh... when did you want that tour?”

“Oh. Uh. I’m... I’m just about done. So... whenever you like.”

“I’m afraid I’ve kept you talking more than enjoying your dinner,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you finish, then we’ll start with the library and the greenhouse, I think.”

Evvy nodded, lowering her head and attending to her food. She wasn’t quite able to finish the entire bowl of soup, though she insisted as she pushed it away that it was very good. “I’m just not terribly hungry. We can visit the library, if you like, messere.”

“All right. Uh… follow me.” He rose and began leading her in the direction of the library. It was a short trip and he occasionally pointed out notable features of the massive house as they went. There was one wing of the house, however, that he hurriedly rushed her past.

“Uh... is something wrong?” She looked around in confusion.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, a bit more sharply than he intended. He sighed and softened his tone. “It’s just... a private wing of the house. I would ask you not to go there.”

“Oh. Fair enough.” Unlike _some_ fairy tale heroines, Evvy was smart enough to take Cullen at his word, and resolved not to enter that wing.

* * *

She let him continue leading her to the library, where her confusion was rapidly erased by her delight in being among so many books. “It rivals my father’s private library back in Ostwick!”

“I’m very pleased you liked it,” he said, his tone genuine and a smile crossing his features. “Please feel free to come here as often as you’d like and borrow anything that strikes your fancy.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.” She gave him the first real, full smile she’d worn since she arrived at the villa.

That smile tied his tongue in knots - particularly the way it seemed to make her already bright green eyes even brighter. “I, uh... I can show you the greenhouse next if you’d like. Or if you want to stay here and explore a bit that’s... erm... fine too.”

“I’d like to see whatever you’re willing for me to see. I don’t want to go into the wrong place by mistake.”

“That - that is very considerate of you, thank you.” He dipped his head, then glanced around the space. “You know, the night is young - there’s no reason we can’t linger here for a bit and then see the rest of the house. Besides, maybe you can reach some of the books Rosalie can’t knock down for me.” He added the last part with a slight note of jocularity in his voice.

Amused, she nodded. “I can try. You might have noticed I’m a bit undersized - but I see there’s a ladder or two, so I think I can manage it. Was there a particular title you wanted?”

“I think there’s a book here about the history of the estate actually. Come with me, I’ll show you.”

Under his direction, she maneuvered a ladder to the correct area of the library and climbed to where he thought the book could be found. “I think this must be it,” she said, blowing dust off of the top of a volume. “ _The Grand History of Grand Forest_. I don’t mean to pry, but... if I can ask... how are you able to read? I mean - turn pages?”

He laughed slightly. “It’s a fair question, my lady. I usually have help - again, mostly Rosalie, as if it’s the poor thing’s job to be my personal servant.” His little laugh quickly became a sigh. “It’s not always the most effective system, but it’s better than nothing. It does leave me feeling a bit like a helpless infant most of the time, but these would have been some very dark years without even the attempt to read now and then.”

“Well, perhaps I can help. See... I have a theory,” she explained hurriedly, “as I said to Dorian - if the spell on this place is impacting me too, it must be for a reason. Maybe it’s somehow related to why I can’t remember the reason I came to Ferelden. I mean, it hardly seems plausible that those would be two separate and difficult to explain incidents. Anyway, I thought that maybe my purpose in being here at the villa is to make things a little easier on all of you, so I... I thought maybe I could... read.” She paused. “That sounded _much_ better in my head.”

He laughed at that, a far more human-sounding laugh than the others had been. “I can relate to that,” he said with a smile, his gaze a bit soft. “And I would like that. You reading, I mean. I think… I think you might be right about making things easier... making them different.”

“At the very least, I probably can’t make things worse. I’ll try not to, anyway.” She thought of Mahanon, and wondered if he’d gotten to safety. It occurred to her that it would be difficult for her to keep her promise to escape somehow if she committed to staying and trying to help… but she’d read enough fairy stories to know that a magical geas will keep someone where it wants them no matter what they intend. She reasoned that the only way she was going to figure anything out and possibly fix it was if she stayed where she was and watched to see what happened.

“I’m almost certain your being here will only make things better, my lady ...” Cullen said. He then paused a moment as if deliberating. “... Evvy.”

Her smile was little, but kindly. “I hope so.”

* * *

After a much longer stay in the library than either of them had really intended, Evvy found herself too drowsy to continue the tour. With a promise to resume after breakfast, therefore, she retired for the night, and most of the enchanted household gathered in the dining room to discuss the situation with one another.

“Well, Dorian,” said Mia, “what do you make of it?”

“I’m honestly not sure what to make of it,” he admitted. “They seem to be... getting along well enough. They’ve already discussed Genitivi and she’s promised to read to him, so that’s something. I’m not sure what, but it’s something. And she’s agreed to stay for a while - I suppose the real question now is do we have the kind of time it might take for something deeper to develop?”

“We’d better hope we do,” said Branson grimly. “She’s our last, best chance.”

“Also our first chance,” Rosalie reminded him. “It’s not as though any _other_ women have stumbled upon the place.”

“Too true,” said Dorian. “So what exactly should we do? Should we stay out of this and hope they come together on their own, or do we try to… help His Lordship in any way?”

“Maybe a little of both?” Mia hedged. “Stay out of it to a point, but help in subtle ways? We should... we should find out what Cullen thinks, I suppose, for a starting point. Not about us helping, but about her. It’ll be a challenge enough to get her to warm up to her captor, but if he’s not interested, it’ll be that much more difficult.”

“You’re probably right about that. But, just for the record, I was on hand when he saw the lady in her green dress,” Dorian said with a little smirk. “So I’m almost certain he’s interested.”

“Well, I wasn’t!” Mia exclaimed. “Don’t spare the details.”

“He quite literally froze mid-sentence. And I mean froze,” Dorian said, obviously relishing the retelling of this tale. “Just stood there blinking at the woman like he forgot how to speak. And I’m fairly sure I heard a purr during the whole exchange.”

“A purr.” Branson, who hadn’t been in the dining room for that part, sounded almost dubious. “My brother. Purred.”

“Believe me, Ser Branson, if I had a hand, I would raise it to the Maker,” Dorian insisted. “It was that little noise he makes when, were he human, he would be clearing his throat, but it was most definitely more a purr than anything else. I’m actually surprised Lady Evangeline didn’t pick up on it.”

“I think she was too busy being confused,” said Cassandra dryly. “I’m not sure I would know how to respond to such a sound if I were in her shoes. I can’t help thinking that I would have been wondering if I had been invited to _be_ dinner rather than to _eat_ dinner.”

“Well, hopefully he put those fears at least somewhat to bed after a quiet evening of conversation and reading in the library,” Mia said affectionately. “Oh, and speaking of dinner, has he eaten anything yet?”

“I don’t think so. He waited for the lady to finish eating and then took her on the library visit,” Rosalie reported. “Shall I go find him?”

“Yes, please, Rosalie. Thank you. That way we can get an update and I can make sure the poor thing actually gets some food in him.”

A few minutes later, Rosalie was back with Cullen in tow. He looked slightly nonplussed, as if still trying to riddle out the events of the evening, and blinked at all the eyes that were suddenly on him. “Erm… what have I done now?”

“I asked Rosalie to bring you to eat your dinner,” said Mia, just faintly stern. “You were a bit distracted and forgot to eat.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I suppose I rather was, wasn’t I?” He ignored the smug look Dorian seemed to be wearing. “I certainly didn’t want to eat in front of our guest if I could help it, but our stop in the library took longer than I was expecting.”

“So... “ Mia pressed. “Tell me what you think of her. I’m dying for details.”

“I... we... she’s nice,” he stammered, shuffling back and forth a bit. “Nice, and well-read, and clever, and... beautiful. I like her. Very much. I find myself wondering how this all might have gone had the curse never happened, had we been married like we were supposed to have been.”

“Not minding that betrothal quite so much now, hm?” She chuckled, directing dishes in the placement of his food. “You’ll get your chance yet, I’ll wager. Dorian tells me you’re already getting along nicely.”

Cullen made a funny sort of shy muttering noise at that, but nodded. “We are. At least, I think we are. She said she wants to help us if she can and she promised to read to me. We already have the same taste in books.”

“A perfect match,” his sister teased him. “Eat your dinner, Cul. I’m pleased that you like her so much; curse aside, I’d hoped your betrothed would suit you when she finally arrived.”

“I just can’t believe _she’s_ the one who found us,” he said almost absently as he followed Mia’s instruction. “Is it part of the curse or just... fate?”

“Maybe both. Who can say? The important thing is that you don’t let this opportunity slip out of reach. And if we can help, we will.”


	5. Chapter 5

A few days passed (although, ever since Dorian postulated the idea that time was passing differently in the cursed villa, the inhabitants began to wonder just how long it really had been). Things continued to go well for the lady and the lion - or, at least, about as well as things could be expected to go under the circumstances. Mia’s advice to Cullen barbed strangely in his mind. Don’t let this opportunity slip out of reach? Was it really an opportunity? Evvy didn’t detest and revile him completely, sure, but that certainly didn’t mean she was going to love him. After all, he hadn’t even thought himself worthy of love when he was a human, let alone since the curse had transformed him into a beast.

She was more at ease around him than she had ever expected to be, certainly, but the nature of his plight (and that of the rest of the household) plucked at her sympathies and made her less inclined to avoid him. Being in his company was by no means a constant thing, but she didn’t shy away from it when it happened.

She was still trying to learn the layout of the house, though, in order to avoid entering the places where he didn’t want her to go. And when, after the first week or so was over, that finally happened… well, it’s almost certain that she was just plain lost.

Under normal circumstances, it’s very likely no one would have even discovered such a slip up. But as bad luck would have it, the place the lion didn’t want her to go was the place where he slept, so he was bound to stumble across her being there at this particular time.

On the surface, the place just looked like a normal bedchamber - aside from the fact that most of it was, quite apparently, not used. The main features of the room were a pile of blankets that had very evidently been pulled off the bed so the lion could sleep in them on the floor, and three enchanted objects which sat on a little desk. The first was an open book that the sorceress had left behind, which detailed the memories of the Grand Forest Villa inhabitants. On the one hand, this was an excellent thing, for it let the inhabitants see the memories of those they could no longer be with; and on the other hand, it was a very bad thing, for it detailed even the grim memories, like those of Cullen’s time as a soldier. The second object was an enchanted mirror that could be used to see the outside world. The third and most important object was, of course, the rose the enchantress had left. It sat in a glass case amidst a pile of shriveled petals.

It was only natural that Evvy, being as fond of plants as she was, should have her attention drawn first to the rose. She approached it curiously, uncertain what to make of the flower seemingly suspended in midair. Rather than get too close, she turned, and was immediately arrested with curiosity about the book on the desk.

It didn’t make a great deal of sense to her as she turned the page; the story had no words, only pictures. She saw a beautiful young woman with curling golden hair, having her hand kissed by a shy-looking man; she saw a man with a mustache playing the lute and singing. Then she paged backwards, and found herself looking at a man in armor much like she had seen Samson wear, leading forces in battle. She tried to understand the significance of what she was viewing, but nothing seemed exactly right.

It was at this moment that Cullen pushed the door to the bedchamber open with his head and looked up to find her standing at the desk. His eyes widened and he took a surprised step back. “Evvy? What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come to this part of the house.” There was shock in his voice.

“I - I got lost - I’m -” She was trying to stammer out an apology, but the look on his face wasn’t helping her.

His eyes roved from her to the objects on the table and his already wide eyes widened further. “The book... you opened the book?” He took a few hurried steps into the room. “And the rose, what of the rose? Did you touch it? What have you done?” he demanded. He sounded angry, but more than anything he sounded terrified.

“I didn’t touch it!” She was a little angry herself, now, at being accused. “The book was open! I was just looking - I didn’t know where I was!”

“I don’t care that you didn’t know where you were!” His lip curled into a faint snarl. “You don’t know what you could have done! You could have doomed us all!” he said, thundering slightly in his emotion as he checked the enchanted objects wildly. Then, he spun to face her. “Get out. Get out of here. Leave. _Now_.”

Having never been roared at by a lion in her life, Evvy’s reaction was hardly surprising. As he loomed over her, she turned on her heel and burst from the room, almost tripping on her skirts as she clattered down the corridor. She emerged into one of the open courtyards - no, that wasn’t far enough. She needed to put as much space between herself and him as possible, and to that end she rushed down the stairs and out into the snowy forest.

* * *

Almost as soon as she was out of sight, Cullen regretted his words, and pelted from the room. He arrived downstairs to see several members of his household looking extremely confused at Evvy’s hasty departure, and looking even more confused to see Cullen in a similarly agitated state. “Where’s Evvy? Where did she go?”

“Out, my lord,” said James, the impossibly loyal Grand Forest seneschal, who had been cursed into the form of a coat rack. At his words, Cullen turned and immediately dashed out as well, ignoring the shouts from the family asking what had happened.

Evvy’s outfit wasn’t really meant for running, and her flight was so wild that it was really impressive that she got as far as she did before striking her toes against an exposed tree root and tumbling down a hill. Groaning faintly, she picked herself up and dusted herself off, then froze.

“Well, well... what do we have here?” asked a voice.

Standing close at hand was a small troop of bandits (not plant-stealing bandits like Cullen had suspected Mahanon of being, but actual bandits), each brandishing a long slender knife. Maker only knew why they had stumbled into a very obviously cursed forest in the middle of a magical snowstorm; no one said they were particularly smart. But, regardless of whether or not you would trust them to be smart enough to do your taxes, they were nevertheless very dangerous and were only too willing to part Evvy with whatever valuables she might be carrying.

“I don’t have anything,” she said, raising her hands warily. “Please, messeres, in our Lady’s name I beg you leave me be. I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Oh, well, maybe we can make it better,” one of them crooned mockingly. “I’m sure you have _something_ we can use, mistress. We’re open to negotiation.”

The other bandits laughed and together they all began to advance on Evvy. However, Cullen had managed to arrive just in time to see this exchange occur, and thus cornering Evvy was probably the worst thing the bandits could have done. With a great bellow of rage, he sprang from the treeline and threw himself in between her and the bandits. “You heard her! Leave her be!” he snarled.

“What is _that_?” asked one of the bandits.

“A trophy! Kill it - that pelt’ll bring enough gold to feed us for a month!” shouted another.

With another more tempting prize presenting itself to them, the bandits forgot about Evvy and rounded instead on Cullen, who sighed. “I was really rather hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he mumbled, but with a roar he lashed out with one massive paw, sending the nearest bandits careening.

Evvy didn’t hesitate. The second they stopped watching her, she dove for the ground and seized a fallen branch, then swung it wildly at the lone bandit left standing. After a few more minutes of scuffling, and one extremely terrifying roar from Cullen, the three ruffians fled into the night, limping. She watched them go with a feeling of satisfaction that lasted only until she heard a thump behind her. Turning, she realized with alarm that Cullen had collapsed on the spot; one of the bandits had managed to stab him, and though the wound was not in a dangerous place, he was clearly in a lot of pain.

Blood trickled from the wound and he grunted, trying to pull himself to his feet and failing. He looked from the wound to Evvy, his brown eyes clouded with pain and perhaps a bit of pleading. After the way he had treated her, he honestly wouldn’t blame her if she left him there in the snow and fled to the village. But he desperately hoped she wouldn’t.

“You... you have to help me,” she mumbled, crouching at his side. “I can’t carry you back to the villa - you have to stand.”

Drawing a shaky breath, he nodded slightly and, with as much determination as he could muster, attempted to get to his feet once more. It wasn’t easy, and he let out a roar of pain when he finally managed it, but he was upright again and slowly began to pad back in the direction of the villa.

Evvy took up position at his side, supporting him as best she could until they reached the estate once again. The objects clustered around in alarm, unable to really help her except to lead her to his room again. She left him there, on his pile of blankets, and went to retrieve the herbs Mia said were needed to tend the wound.

“Hold still,” she told him, steeping the herbs in hot water and starting to clean the injury.

He winced sharply as she did so, then grumbled in pain. “Ah, that hurts!” he complained, gritting his teeth against the bite of the herbs as they went into the wound.

“If you would hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much,” she replied in a forcibly even tone.

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been stabbed before? It’s not a pleasant sensation, forgive me for being a bit twitchy,” he mumbled, doing his best to stay as immobile as possible.

“I can’t say I have, no. Just do the best you can, it’ll be over in a minute.”

“Yes, all right.” He sighed and was silent for a moment, before speaking again. “And Evvy... I-I’m sorry. For the way I spoke to you before. You didn’t deserve that.”

She hadn’t been expecting an apology, and wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it. Or to much of anything else about him, really. “Try to get some rest,” she said finally, taking the cloth away.

He nodded, sighing again. “Thank you. For you, I’ll try,” he said, and adjusted himself in the blankets in an attempt to fall asleep. Luckily for him, he was too exhausted to resist sleep for very long and soon his breathing had fallen into a deep, steady rhythm.

Evvy watched him for a minute, setting the basin aside. She’d almost regained her freedom - she probably still could. But she felt honor-bound to stay; he had saved her life, after all, even if he’d been the one to drive her out into the cold in the first place. “If this ever starts making sense, I’ll be grateful,” she muttered, getting to her feet and slipping quietly out of the room.

Once the door had closed behind her once more, the rest of the household exchanged a silent glance of sadness.

“Oh, Cullen...” Mia sighed, watching her brother for a moment.

“What do we do now?” Rosalie asked.

“We’re not down and out yet,” Dorian cut in, trying to sound a bit more cheerful than perhaps he felt. “He made a mistake, but there might be hope still. As long as Evvy is still here and the rose still has petals, there’s hope.”

* * *

She was still there, but Evvy wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She returned the next morning, dutifully examining the injury and checking to make sure a fever hadn’t sprung up to indicate infection. Everything seemed to be in order, so she left him to sleep and went to the greenhouse.

Her emotions were in a weird sort of flux. On the one hand, she sort of wanted to be angry at Cullen - for scaring her, for taking her prisoner in the first place, for everything. On the other hand, she had great sympathy for him; and the fact that he’d arrived in time to save her meant that he must have chased after her almost immediately.

“If Non were here,” she mumbled to herself, “he’d know what to do. He always does.”

“Can I help at all?” offered a voice. It turned out to be Mia, who was being pushed on a wheeled cart thanks to the assistance of James. “I just wanted to thank you for looking after Cullen, Lady Evangeline. It must not be easy, especially after he frightened you like that. But we’re all very grateful.”

“Oh, you - you can just call me Evvy, I don’t mind. And I… you’re welcome.” She trimmed a dead leaf from an embrium plant. “He... I don’t quite know what to make of him, to be honest.”

“I know. He... he had a very hard time of it when he was a soldier and that made him angry for a very long time,” she explained with a sigh. “He blamed himself for all the terrible things that happened, so when the king made him a Lord and gave him this place, he didn't think he deserved it. Then this curse…” she sighed again.

Evvy turned that over in her mind while transplanting a few plants into larger containers. “I thought maybe he didn’t like me - which is an odd thing to worry about, whether or not your captor likes you,” she admitted. “But you make it sound more like he doesn’t like himself.”

“You're right about that, he doesn't like himself,” she confirmed sadly. “And he's disliked himself even more since this whole thing started. Over the years of being cursed to look like a beast, sometimes I think he believes that's what he is.”

“I want to help all of you, but… I’m not sure how. There must be something I can do - I think there is, but no one will tell me what it is.”

“Just… keep doing what you're doing. Keep being patient with him if you can. For now… erm… for now that's enough,” said Mia, sounding slightly cagey. “And it's more than I think he dares hope for.”

“I guess I can do that. But I didn’t mean to upset him, you know. I’m not sure what to do if it happens again.”

“If it happens again, find me or Cassandra and we’ll give him a stern talking-to,” Mia said with a little smile, before sobering again. “I know you didn’t mean to upset him. And deep down, _he_ knows you didn’t mean to upset him. It’s just… he’s very protective of the enchanted objects in that room, you see. They’re important parts of this curse.”

“Oh. I wish he’d just told me that,” she said. “I mean, he did tell me not to go in there, but I got lost and I didn’t realize that was the room.”

“Yes, he probably should have told you, but I think it embarrassed him a little - the idea of showing you how chained he is to an enchanted rose, how mocked he is by a little book.” She glanced around as if worried they would be overheard. “Don’t tell him I said that, of course, but it’s the truth. He likely thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”

Evvy hesitated. “Mia... what _is_ that book? And the rose - he was terrified that I might have touched it.”

Mia glanced around again and sighed. When she was satisfied that they would not be overheard, she spoke. “The book is a book of memories...  _our_ memories. In a way, it was kind of the enchantress to give us a way to remember the loved ones we can’t be with anymore. And yet cruel at the same time, especially to Cul. As for the rose...” She hesitated. “The rose is our time table - it marks how much longer we have.”

Evvy’s eyes widened. “What happens when the last petal falls?”

“My brother... my brother remains a lion forever. And the rest of the household and I become... rubbish,” she said sadly. “We become rubbish.” After a moment, she became forcibly cheerful. “But listen to me going on. I came here to help _you_ , after all. Is there anything I can do for you, Evvy?”

Struck dumb with horror, Evvy shook her head. “Thank you, no. I… maybe I should go see how he’s doing.”

Mia seemed to brighten considerably at that. “That sounds like a good idea. If you need me, you know where to find me.” She glanced up. “Now, James, if you would be so kind as to roll me back... thank you so much, you’re a treasure.”

Evvy smiled at that, and (still a little warily) made her way back to where Cullen was resting in his nest of blankets. Gingerly she crept to his side and felt for his temperature, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping.

He was asleep and, it quickly became apparent, having some sort of nightmare. He was twitching slightly, muttering something in his sleep about rogue Templars and pleading silently “No... leave me. Leave me.” Suddenly, he awoke with a little jolt, glancing around in confusion. “Who- who is that?” he asked, still a bit sleep-addled. “Evvy?”

She nodded, trying not to agitate him further. “Bad dream?”

“They always are,” he sighed, then sat up slightly, blinking at her. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. I... how are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you. Erm... how is it looking? Will I live?” He added the last part with a slight teasing tone, managing a weak smile.

“Of course you - wait, was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?” Her own smile was incredulous, but amused.

He shrugged a bit, as much as his current positioning would allow, the smile widening a bit. “Maybe,” he replied, with a little purring laugh.

In spite of herself, Evvy chuckled. “Well, let me take a look.” She examined the injury. “It’s knitting well, I think. You can be up and around whenever you feel ready.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. Being cooped up inside is bad enough - being cooped up in this room all day is even worse.” He readjusted himself, sitting up so he could look her in the eyes. “By the way, I don’t think I asked you - are _you_ all right?”

She nodded. “I’m a little bruised, from the tumble I took, but nothing that won’t heal soon. You got there just in time to prevent anything worse.” She sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for not leaving me to become a carpet or a wall trophy,” he said, chuckling slightly, but his lip twitched a bit with emotion. “After the way I behaved… well, let’s just say I don’t know if I would have done the same thing were I in your shoes.”

“Please, you could never wear my shoes,” she teased him. More seriously, she added, “I talked to Mia, and I... understand a bit better why you were upset. I hadn’t meant any harm, but all the same, I apologize.”

“Oh.” As Mia had mentioned he might, he did indeed look a bit embarrassed. But after a moment, he smiled a little. “You don’t have to apologize to me, but thank you just the same. I... I should have told you. You had no way of knowing that blasted rose was so important, after all.”

“I just... I’m sorry you’re in this situation. All of you. There’s got to be some way to fix it…”

He laughed a mirthless laugh at that. “The only way to break the curse is the most impossible thing of all,” he muttered. “The sorceress knew that, that’s why she did it to me. It’s… it’s nothing to trouble you with.”

“Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?!”

“Because it... well, because it’s...” he stammered a bit. “It’s a bit unfair to make you think you have to… never mind, forget I said anything.”

She sighed and shook her head. “All right. At least now I know there _is_ a way... I guess I have to find it for myself. Stupid magical geas.”

“You can say that again,” he said with a bit of a chuckle. After a moment, he shuffled his paws a bit awkwardly. “Now, uh... are you busy? If you... had a little time, what do you say to some Genitivi? If you fetch the book and turn the pages, I’ll do the reading.”

“In here?” She nodded, getting to her feet. “I’ll... I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” He smiled. As he watched her, he felt a funny sort of lurch in his chest, a strange wave of warm emotion that seemed to wash over him in a way he hadn’t been expecting. He did his best to ignore it - it was, after all, foolish to hope too much.

* * *

“Not that I’ve been counting the days or anything,” said Dorian, “but I would like to point out that as of today, Lady Evangeline has been with us for three months.”

“Has it been that long already?” chirped Rosalie. “Time does fly, doesn’t it?”

“Maker bless my soul, it certainly does,” Mia said with a smile. “And what a difference three months makes, I must say! I was... I was concerned after the fight they had, but Cullen has been doing so well since then.”

“It’s nice to see him walking around like a gentleman again,” Cassandra allowed. “And he’s stopped growling so much.”

“He even asks for music sometimes,” Branson said. “Never mind that I don’t actually know what I’m _doing_ … I remember how much he used to like music. It’s like that part of him came back.”

“It’s like so much of him has come back,” Mia agreed cheerfully. “To hear him laugh again... oh, it’s been so long since he’s laughed.”

“And, unless I’m very much mistaken,” Rosalie giggled. “I think I saw him playing in the snow with Evvy the other day. Playing in the snow!”

“ _Playing?_ ” Cassandra repeated.

“It’s true,” James put in. “I saw it from the window. They were throwing snowballs at each other.”

Dorian chuckled at that. “Someone please remind me I need to tell Josephine that later,” he said. “She’ll probably squeal. Hmm… I wonder if she knows any good tidbits? After all, she sees Evvy even more than we do.”

Branson sighed at that. “My poor lonely darling.”

“She misses you too, Bran,” Rosalie said, giving him a light dusting.

Mia gave her youngest brother a sympathetic smile. “It will be okay,” she assured him. “Perhaps... well, perhaps if things really are going this well between Cullen and Evvy, the curse really will break at long last.”

“I refuse to get my hopes up,” said Cassandra flatly. “But... I will allow that this is encouraging. Maybe too encouraging.”

“My dear Cassandra,” Dorian huffed playfully. “You have a remarkable talent for making even good news seem gloomy. I for one maintain that there’s something there that wasn’t there before.”

“Hey, that’s catchy,” said Branson, playing a couple of notes.

“Why, I do believe this calls for a musical montage!” Dorian said, and after a moment of deliberation, came up with another song to describe the surprising but welcome change in both the lady and the lion since the former had stumbled on the latter. The details aren’t really important; what’s important is that a change was occurring and it was adorable.

* * *

Although a few months had passed inside the Grand Forest Villa, outside in the rest of the world it had only been about a week. Mahanon had finally dragged himself home and into the small house he and Evvy had shared; he was malnourished and cold, despite the fact that Redcliffe was warm with early summer. Having collapsed on his bed into a deep sleep for several hours, he was just starting to finally eat something when there was a knock on his door.

“And things just keep getting worse,” he muttered to himself when he realized who it was. Opening the door, he sighed. “Samson. It’s… not really a good time.”

Samson had quite evidently been expecting Evvy to answer. When he saw it was her companion instead, he drooped, all the fake-charm falling from his person. “Oh. It’s you.” He regarded Mahanon for a moment. “Andraste’s knickers, man, you look terrible. Where’s Evangeline?”

“Not here. I just got back from Highever... put her on a ship for home,” Mahanon lied glibly. “We only had enough coin saved for one of us to go, so I sent her back to her father and I’ll join them when I have the money.”

“You _what_?” he snapped. He had never liked or trusted this strange friend of Evvy’s, and now he liked him even less. But he forced himself to put on a slight smile. “Mm. No matter. When she arrives back in Ostwick, I shall merely write to her.” He eyed Mahanon a bit suspiciously, as if wondering if the elf was really telling the truth.

Mahanon shrugged. “You can if you want. I won’t stop you.” He just wanted this overbearing man to _go away_ and let him eat in peace. “I miss her already, but she’ll be happier back home. Besides, her father’s probably worked out who he wants her to marry by now.”

Samson gave a little snort at that and forced a smile that looked more like a sneer. “Perhaps. Who knows, though? Nothing is ever certain. Well... good day.” With a stiff bow, Samson departed the house, storming angrily all the way to the local tavern.

“Thank the Creators,” Mahanon grumbled, shutting the door and returning to his bowl of soup. He was forming a desperate resolution that once he felt strong enough, he’d strike out for the villa again and see if he couldn’t rescue her - or, failing that, persuade the lion to take him in her place again.


	6. Chapter 6

Samson was drowning his irritation at the tavern, where he had plenty of sympathizers and fans. “ _Besides, her father’s probably worked out who he wants her to marry by now_ ,” he repeated Mahanon’s words, grumbling as he took a long gulp of his drink. “Can you believe the nerve of that?”

Before he could garner more support, there was a flurry of activity at the tavern door as three battered-looking men pushed their way inside, frantically yelling about the fight they had survived in the nearby woods. Samson was on his feet at once, looking quizzical.

“Speak clearly, man, what are you on about?” he barked to the man in the lead, making his way over to the small party.

“A beast! A horrible, monstrous beast - attacked us!”

“Those fangs will haunt my nightmares for years,” added another one.

“And the claws! Look what it did to my cloak!” said the third, brandishing his slashed garment.

There was a puzzled moment of silence as everyone looked at the men and at each other and at Samson to gauge his opinion on the matter. After a moment, Samson laughed and the rest of the tavern followed suit, as if his laugh made it permissible for theirs.

“A beast?” he repeated. “My friends, I’m sure it was just a bear. Don’t you know these blasted woods are crawling with them?”

“N-no bear I ever saw could _talk_!” one of them protested. “We - we found a girl - and suddenly this _thing_ came from out of _nowhere_ and _bellowed_ at us to leave her be!”

“Oh, a talking beast. Indeed.” Samson was doing his level best to not look too amused. “And protecting a noble maiden, of course. I think you gentlemen are a bit confused. Why don’t you come and sit, have a drink?”

They weren’t about to argue with the invitation, but as they drank, they continued to rail about the situation. “An’ she was _in league_ with the monster!” grumbled one of the bandits. “Knocked me down with a branch, she did! Hair like night, that one had, and piercing green eyes like a Witch o’ the Wilds or summat!”

Samson, who had only been half listening as he drank, stopped abruptly and turned to face the bandit, his eyes wide. Their ramblings about a talking beast were complete rubbish, of course, but this girl they described… “Hang on. She had black hair and green eyes? You’re certain? Where did you see her?”

“In the woods - that way,” he said, jabbing to the southwest with his finger. “Off the road to the outlying farms.”

He ran that over in his mind, his cheek twitching in agitation. He _knew_ that elf was no good! And now he had confirmation that Evvy wasn’t on a ship back to Ostwick, but still nearby. He threw down a few coins to cover his drink and all but dashed from the tavern to find Mahanon once more.

* * *

Back in the villa, the dining hall was being cleared of furniture for a special event. While a grumbling Cullen bathed behind a curtain, his younger sister was fussing about his clothes while his elder sister tried not to smile too much. “Explain to me again, Cul, how this all happened?”

“I’m an _idiot_ is how it happened,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “With a guest in the house, everything has been getting cleaned up so beautifully and I just said… ‘Oh, everything looks so nice, we should have a dance tonight.’ Maker’s breath, I was _joking_ , I didn’t think she’d actually accept! I can’t dance!”

“No, no, this is perfect,” said Dorian, joining the discussion. “The rose has only a few petals left, my lord. You and the lady will have your dance - dazzling music, romantic candlelight - and then, when the moment is right… tell her how you feel.”

He felt his mouth go dry at that. “But I… she… I can’t…” He looked distinctly anxious. “H-how will I know when the moment is right?”

“You will feel somewhat nauseated,” Cassandra informed him.

“I feel that already,” he mumbled to himself. Over these past months, he had started to acknowledge the truth of his steadily deepening feelings for the woman to whom he had been betrothed. The thought of saying them _aloud_ to her was another thing entirely. In their time together they had - it might be fair to say - become friends. But at the end of the day, he was still a bewitched creature. Could he ever dare assume she would feel the way for him that he felt for her? “I don’t think I can do this,” he admitted.

“You _have_ to do it!” Rosalie protested. “It’s our only chance, any of us! We’re counting on you, Cul!”

He glanced around at the desperate, eager faces of his family members, meeting each of their eyes with a pang of sympathy. It was Dorian who spoke, his tone faintly jocular, even as his gaze was serious. “Don’t make me light a fire under you, my lord. Literally.”

Cullen sighed. “All right. For you - for all of you. I’ll try not to let you down, I promise.”

“That’s the spirit! Now - let’s get you ready,” said Dorian. Under his somewhat very amused direction, a flurry of activity took place in which the lion was transformed into… well, a much cleaner and better-dressed lion. His features were still leonine, but within them could be seen hints of the noble lord Cullen had been before the curse.

Evvy, for her part, was experiencing something similar (albeit less dramatic) with Josephine in her quarters. She found herself on the threshold of the dining hall, gowned in emerald green silk with braided gold accents, her hair carefully arranged. When Cullen appeared in his black velvet, she offered him a smile that couldn’t seem to decide if it was more pleased or nervous.

The moment he saw her, arrayed in the fine cascades of green fabric, he froze - much like he had during their first dinner together. His heart, which had been hammering, soared slightly, and a quiet purr escaped him as he walked down to meet her. “You… you look beautiful,” he managed shyly.

“Thank you. And you look… very lordly,” she replied in an equally shy tone. He offered his arm (or forepaw, take your pick) and she took it, letting him guide her to where Branson and Dorian were waiting to provide the music for their dance.

“I… I must apologize ahead of time for my lack of skill,” he stammered as they took to the floor. “I wasn’t much for dancing even when I was human, let alone now.”

“It’s all right. Just… just look at me. Let the music guide you,” she said gently.

“Let the music guide me,” he repeated. “All right. And, after all, I may never have another chance like this, so, uh… ” He dipped his maned head. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

By way of a response she dropped into a deep curtsey, then glanced up at him. “Of course.” Rising, she put her hand in his, and nodded at the onlookers.

With a smile, the Grand Forest minstrel did what he did best and began singing them a sweet, slow ballad that Cullen could haltingly lead a dance to. He did his best, stepping carefully in time to the music, taking her advice to let the music guide him. As they moved in tandem, he felt himself beginning to smile a bit, transfixed by her green eyes and the gentle rhythm of their movements.

Never mind exactly what happened for a few minutes. Scenes like this, if we’re being honest about them, are nearly impossible to reproduce in a story. If you’ve never had a private ball, no writer in the world can describe it in a way that you won’t think is silly and overdone. If you _have_ had one, then you know that no writer in the world can do it justice. All you really need to know is that Cullen was a much better dancer than he thought he was, and that they pretty much never stopped looking into each other’s eyes. For the rest, the reader is advised to once again consult their own imagination.

With the dance concluded, the participants felt it wise to escape into the fresh air for a bit, and watch the snow as they regained their breath and regular cheek temperature. Evvy fidgeted a bit as she stood beside Cullen, twisting her fingers together.

“That was… that was marvelous, actually,” he said at last, panting a bit from the effort and from the fearful anticipation that was rising in his chest. He paused for a moment, looking out over the estate. “I know this must sound foolish… I mean I don’t expect… well, I mean, I don’t dare hope that someone like you could ever… develop feelings for a - a creature like me.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh… I don’t know,” she said, almost carelessly. “Perhaps.”

He turned to face her in surprise, a feeling of hope barbing through him. “Really?” He breathed. “Do you… do you think you could be happy here?”

She hesitated. “Can anyone be happy if they aren’t free?”

He shut his eyes at that. “Of course, you’re right, I… things have felt so… so perfect here of late that I had almost forgotten. How selfish of me… ” He may have spoken nonstop about her comfort and done everything in his power to make sure she had been well cared for, but the fact remained that she was still technically his prisoner. The thought turned his stomach. “You must miss your friend and your home very much.”

“I do,” she admitted. “Non and I were raised together… in some ways he’s… more than a brother, really. He was also my first dance partner,” she added with a slight smile. “We learned together because we were close to the same height. I stepped on his feet a lot more than I care to remember.”

Cullen smiled at that, although the smile was a bit sad. “Well, he had an excellent dance partner in you, regardless,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Uh… you know, Evvy, there’s one artifact the enchantress left me that you don’t know much about yet. It’s a mirror and… well, would you like to see Mahanon?”

“See him?” she repeated. “I… can do that? Yes, please.”

He nodded. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

* * *

He led her back to his bedchamber where the three enchanted artifacts were kept. He tried to ignore the dismal condition of the rose and how it filled him with dread, and instead motioned to the unassuming hand mirror that lay on the desk. “That’s it there,” he said gently. “Just… just tell it what you’d like to see.”

Slowly, almost warily, she picked it up, and viewed herself in its reflective surface. After a moment, she said, “I’d… I’d like to see Mahanon.”

Almost instantly, the surface of the mirror shimmered and instead of showing Evvy her reflection, it showed her her request. However, the image it produced was not a happy one, no. It was Mahanon all right, but he appeared to be at the mercy of a very irate Samson, who was demanding to hear the truth behind Evvy’s whereabouts. Cullen, seeing this image, immediately took a step back in shock and dismay.

“What is he _doing_ to him?” she cried, all but dropping the mirror in her alarm. “Maker’s breath, Samson could snap Non in half!”

Cullen turned his face away for a moment, unable to bear the sight of Samson’s wrath in the mirror or the anguish in Evvy’s eyes. And suddenly, very clearly and very terribly, he realized what he had to do - what he probably should have done a long time ago. He had to let her go. He knew doing so would mean letting the entire family down, but her friend needed her and what’s more, to keep her there at such a time would be… cruel. He remembered the words he had said to her when she first swapped herself for Mahanon and had expressed surprise he was giving her a room - _I may be a beast, but I’m not a monster._

“You… you must go to him,” he said at last, his voice choked and rusty. “You have to help him. Take the mirror and go find him.”

“I - what did you say?”

“Go to him,” he repeated softly. “I give you your freedom. It wasn’t mine to take in the first place.”

Her lip trembled as she stared at him. “I… thank you,” she managed, and tried to hand him the mirror.

But he merely shook his head. “No, no. Keep it. Keep it and… use it to remember me.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Now, there are two horses down in the stable…” They had been gifts for the upcoming wedding before the curse, but she certainly didn’t need to know that now. “Take one and ride, there’s no time to lose. Maker watch over you, Evvy.”

She turned to go, then paused, looking back for a long moment before running for the stable. Moments later, the horse was saddled and the objects were starting to approach Cullen. “I had my doubts,” said Cassandra, “I really did. But it looks like I was wrong. This is working after all.”

A pain like he had never felt before consumed Cullen. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling cold and empty. “I let her go… ” He whispered at last, his voice thick with anguish.

“You did what now?” asked Dorian, almost flatly.

“I had to,” he said, shaking his head.

Rosalie looked shocked. “But… but why?”

“Because her friend needed her help and it would have been cruel to keep her here when he needed her. And because I…” He choked a bit on the words.

“Because he loves her,” Mia finished for him, looking stricken as she watched her brother.

Cullen merely nodded in response. “Because I love her.”

“But then why aren’t we back to normal?” asked Rosalie.

“Because she doesn’t love him. And now it’s too late,” said Cass with a sigh.

“But she… she might come back?” Rosalie suggested, her own voice also becoming choked.

“I don’t think so,” Cullen said softly. “I set her free. It was wrong of me to keep her prisoner in the first place. I only wish…” His voice broke, thick with tears, and he shut his eyes again. “I only wish I could do the same for all of you. I’ve let you down and I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

Mia looked at the rose, and sighed. “We love you, little brother,” she said gently. “I’m just glad you got to be happy for a little while.”

An errant tear or two escape from his closed eyes. “Me too. But I would have been happier if I had been able to give you all the same chance - a chance to not be so lonely and sad anymore. Oh, Maker, what I wouldn’t give for that… ” He sighed, turning to face those assembled. “I love you, too. Thank you for everything you tried to do to help me all this time.”

“What will you do now?” asked Cassandra, quietly.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’ll watch her go from one of the watchtowers, thinking of everything that might have been… fooling myself into thinking she might one day come back here and actually want to… to be with me forevermore.

Dorian sniffled. “Maker’s breath, that’s catchy.”

Cullen then sang a very beautiful, very sad ballad that will not be transcribed here because it would make the reader cry themselves catatonic. But everyone present could feel his longing for Evvy as she rode away and his regret at not having made his feelings known sooner.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Redcliffe Village, Samson had - in a horrific attempt to make Mahanon confess Evvy’s true whereabouts - accused him of murdering his pretty friend. With a steadily gathering audience, Non kept protesting that she was alive. Finally, his resolve broke slightly and he confessed, “She’s in the woods!”

“I told you!” said the delighted bandit. “She’s in league with the monster!”

They summoned the good Arl from his castle, who reluctantly came to take Mahanon into custody; exactly why, he wasn’t entirely sure. But before they could do anything too drastic, Evvy suddenly galloped into view, shouting for them to stop. “Let him go!”

“Why, Lady Evangeline,” Samson said as she approached. He had a look on his face that somehow suggested both smugness and the air of someone who might have been caught stealing alms from the Chantry. “What a surprise. Since your disappearance, we’ve been hearing all sorts of things about what might have happened to you. I was starting to not know who to believe.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Let Mahanon go.”

“Now, now, not so fast, Evangeline,” he chuckled. “You see, going back to that whole _not knowing who to believe_ dilemma, Mahanon here has been lying to me about what happened to you. He said you went back to Ostwick to be married, but as these gentlemen brought to our attention -” he gestured to the bandits. “You seemed to be in the nearby woods. Of course, they also maintain you were with some sort of monster, while Mahanon refused to tell us much of anything. So before anyone goes free, I think we need to clear up some questions about what happened, don’t you?”

“Non didn’t tell you anything because he wasn’t allowed,” she snapped. “Yes, there is a beast, and yes, I’ve been with him. And _those gentlemen_ , as you call them, were going to _assault_ me in the woods if he hadn’t intervened, so I really wouldn’t be putting a lot of stock in their testimony if I were you!”

There were several puzzled murmurings from the assembled crowd at her words. Even Samson looked vaguely thrown off-guard for the first time in the entire proceeding, but then sobered. “And we all know you would do anything for your elven friend here. How can we trust a single word you say?”

“It’s proof you want, Samson? Fine.” She dismounted, and pulled the mirror from her skirts. “Show me the lion,” she said, and proceeded to stun the village with the image of Cullen in his watchtower.

Most of the townspeople stepped back with cries of fear and panic. For a moment, Samson did likewise, although he found himself transfixed on the image. Something about the creature seemed oddly familiar… but he shook the feeling off and instead snatched the mirror from Evvy’s hands. “What kind of dark magic is this?” he said to himself, watching the image. “The bandits were right…” In a louder tone, he addressed the villagers, holding up the mirror for them to study. “The men who came to our tavern were right, friends. Look at this beast! Look at his fangs, his claws!”

“No, no,” Evvy insisted. “He’d never hurt anyone - he’s gentle and kind! He only attacked those men because they were going to hurt _me_!”

“Gentle?” Samson repeated. “ _Kind_? How you do go on, Evangeline. Why, if I didn’t know better I might actually say you cared for this monster!”

Evvy glowered at him. “The only monster I see around here is _you_ , Samson.”

For a moment, Samson gaped at this. Her statement seemed to prove that she did in fact care for the creature - and the fact that Evvy would rather spend time with an anthropomorphic lion than with him did not exactly sit well with Samson’s over-inflated manly ego. After a moment, his lip curled into a cold sneer. “Well, Evangeline, as much as it pains me to say it,” he said, in a tone of false pleasantry that made it quite clear this didn’t pain him at all. “I’m afraid the town was right about you - you are indeed strange. Take her into custody too! We can’t have her warning this monster!”

“No!” She struggled against the grip of the ones who seized her arms. Samson was whipping the villagers into a frenzy, and when the Arl seemed unwilling to go along with the whole thing, they overwhelmed him. Evvy and Mahanon were locked in one of the vacant houses by the waterfront, and they could hear the crowd’s noises dying away as they began their march to the villa.

“We have to get out of here, Non,” she said frantically, once their reunion hug had broken. “I have to warn them! Samson will kill Cullen as a trophy!”

“I’m all for getting out of here, little lady, believe me, but you want to go back to that villa?” Mahanon looked extremely puzzled. “And ‘Cullen’? Are you calling the lion by name now? Looks like it’s my turn to be the one concerned you hit your head, Ev.”

“He’s different, Non. It’s hard to explain, but over these past few months I’ve really come to know a different side of him. He even apologized for how he treated you.”

Mahanon turned that information over in his mind for a moment, studying his friend carefully. At last, he sighed a bit. “Well, I suppose the fact that you’re here is proof he can’t be all b- wait a moment. Months? I left the villa maybe a week ago, tops.”

“So Dorian was right,” she mused. “The candelabrum, that is. He has a theory that time works differently inside the villa - they’re all under a terrible curse, and for them it’s been years. For me it’s been almost four months. If it’s only been a week for you, then he must be right. But they’re running out of time, Non. There’s so much I need to explain, but there’s no time!”

“This is one strange fairy tale we’re in, little lady,” he said, shaking his head. “But I trust you. Now… got any clever ideas for how we get out of this mess?”

“Let’s see…” In an increasingly frantic manner, they started searching the house for something that might help - an axe, a hidden trapdoor to a basement tunnel, anything. She even considered climbing up through the chimney, dress be forgotten, but it seemed too dangerous.

And then, suddenly, they heard the door unlocking.

“Well,” Non grumbled. “This is either a convenient plot twist or the tragic way our story ends.”

Before either of them could react much more than that, the door burst open to reveal Arl Teagan, looking a touch winded. “I think now might be as good a time as any for a dramatic and convenient-to-the-plot rescue, don't you?” he asked brightly.

“It’s like you know us, my lord,” said Evvy with a weak chuckle.

“I apologize for the delay. It took me a little time to find the key - Samson threw it in the weeds,” he explained. “And I sort of had to wait for everyone else to leave. Some of my own men went with him, I’m not very happy. Anyway…” He stood back a bit. “I’m sure you’d like to get out of there.”

“Very much so,” Non said with a nod. “Apparently it’s a long story, but my friend and I really need to get back Grand Forest Villa to stop that mob. Think you can help us?”

“I can lend you a second horse, if that will help,” the Arl offered. “Beyond that, the only thing I can think is to send along a few guardsmen, to maybe help with crowd control. I’m not sure any of them are capable of overpowering Samson, though.”

“That’s plenty, my lord, thank you.” Mahanon turned to Evvy. “Come on, let’s go save your lion.”

“He’s not _my_ lion,” she protested, flushed. But she followed him out of the house and, in short order, they were on the way with the Arl’s forces to save the residents of the villa.


	7. Chapter 7

Back at the villa in question, the mood had been unbearably bleak since Cullen finally lost sight of Evvy’s retreating form disappearing into the wilderness. As he sat in solitary vigil up in the watchtower, the rest of the household had sort of clustered around each other in mutual support, no one able to speak much. Cassandra and Dorian sat, glancing out the window and sighing. But very suddenly, Dorian perked up as he saw a tiny light in the distance.

“Cass. Cass, look!” he said, making a motion that, had he been human again, would have been akin to elbowing her arm. “Out there, someone is approaching! Do you think it could be Evvy?”

“Do we dare to hope?” she cried, hopping up to get a better view. “...oh. Oh dear. That is… _not_ Evvy. It’s an invasion!”

“A _what_?!” shrieked Rosalie, joining them. The light Dorian had spotted had revealed itself to be many lights, and the closer the lights came to the villa, the more obvious it became that those lights were torches being carried by a large mob. “Oh, no! What do we do?”

“Cullen. We have to warn Cullen!” Mia put in, desperation creeping into her tone.

“Get Branson to barricade the door,” Cass directed. “I’ll warn Cullen.” She hurried off as fast as her little clock legs could carry her.

Cullen’s sisters dashed off to find Branson and convey the message while Dorian went to warn Josephine - who was still upstairs, of course - of what was happening. Meanwhile, Cullen could see the approaching invasion force from his place in the watchtower. At first, he could feel himself tense, his natural instinct to protect his family kicking in and his mind beginning to formulate a plan. But after another moment, he sat back down. At this point, letting a mob burn the house down over their heads might be a kindness to everyone.

“Excuse me, Cullen,” said Cass, reaching him. “I’m sorry to bother you, but… we have a situation.”

“I see them, Cass. Let them come.”

“...is that what you want?” she asked, sadly.

He nodded, not able to meet her eyes. “We’re almost out of time anyway - doomed to a life of being monsters or inanimate objects. Maybe this is better… maybe this is...” He sighed, before repeating his statement. “It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.”

* * *

Downstairs, the others were doing their best to hold the door, but against a bum rush of overexcited villagers with torches and sticks, they weren’t having much luck. “Wait,” said Dorian, a little miserably. “I know what to do.”

As the villagers poured through the suddenly open doors, some of them stopped, and gazed around at the silent room. “This… this feels… familiar,” said one of the men, slowly. “Like I’ve been here before.”

“I know what you mean,” added a young man, who glanced around at the various objects that littered the room. “A little eerie, actually. The faster we get out of here the better, I should say.”

One villager cautiously approached a table, where Mia sat with her eyes closed and pretended to be a normal everyday sort of teapot. But when the woman touched her with a fingertip, she let out a giggle of surprise - and then her expression hardened. “ _Now_!” she shouted.

Instantly the room came alive (rather literally), as the enchanted objects sprang into action. The villagers might have them outnumbered, but they hadn’t expected to be facing off with coat racks, pianos, or flying dishes. Samson, however, dodged them all and started making his way through the estate, guided to Cullen’s watchtower by the mirror he still clutched in one hand.

In the melee, no one noticed Samson slip away - the villagers were too shocked and the household too determined. Even Josephine had managed to leave the guest room for the first time in ages to join the fray. Despite Cullen’s sad surrender, they weren’t quite as willing to give up their home to a mob and were fighting valiantly… at least, they were fighting _some_ of the mob valiantly.

“I see you all enjoy playing with fire!” Dorian smirked as he menaced a few attackers, chasing them through the foyer. He stopped very abruptly, however, at the sight of one of the men. “Wait a moment... _Bull_?!”

On the other side of the room, Rosalie was having a similar reaction as she spotted the aforementioned young man. “Look! Look, it’s Krem!” she shrieked. Not that the villagers remembered them, of course, but it was the first time the household members had seen their outside loved ones in a long time and, for a moment at least, they were filled with hope.

Outside, Evvy and Mahanon were pulling their horses to a halt, and Arl Teagan’s men were hurrying inside to subdue the now-more-bewildered-than-frenzied villagers. Evvy pushed past them all, however. “Cassandra! Dorian! Are you all okay?”

“Evvy! Yes, yes, we’re fine!” Dorian called back, surprised to see her returned to the villa. “We had the element of surprise, it seems, and-”

Before he could say anything else, however, Cass cut him off. “Wait, what happened to the man in the lead of the mob? I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Samson.” Evvy looked stricken. “Cass, where’s Cullen? That man wants to kill him!”

Several of the family members were close enough to hear her comment and they gasped in shocked terror. “Gracious Andraste!” Cass cried, her eyes wide. “He - he’s in the watchtower. But you can’t go alone, it’s dangerous!”

It was too late. She was already off and running.

* * *

Samson was, frankly, disappointed as he climbed the final ladder to the watchtower. He thought he’d get a better fight than the one the lion was apparently willing to give. The beast seemed to just languish in a corner, looking uninterested even as he drew his bow and arrows.

“Hello, lion,” he said flatly. With a malevolent grin, he added, “Evangeline sent me.” And he fired.

Cullen let out a roar of pain as the arrow buried itself in his shoulder. Even in this state, something within drove him to his feet, some instinct that would probably never go away that said he needed to survive. He staggered as he rose, but managed to look up at Samson and shake his head. “Is this truly what you want, Samson?” he mumbled.

Samson stared at him for a moment. He knew that voice. It was different than he remembered, to be sure, but the eyes… the eyes and the voice… no, there was no mistaking it. “... _Rutherford_?” And he started to laugh. “Oh, this is too much.”

“You… you remember?” Cullen looked shocked for a second, but it wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. Not really.

“Ah, well… nothing personal, old boy.” Samson spread his arms in a gesture of something like insincere apology. “It’s a shame, really. But she likes you a little too much for my taste.” He aimed his arrow again.

From down below, however, a frantic voice split the night. “Samson, _don’t_! Please!”

Had Samson’s face not betrayed he too heard the call, Cullen would have been convinced he was imagining it. “Evvy?” he whispered, mostly to himself. Then, he raised his voice to call out to her. “Evvy? Is it really you?”

“I tried to stop them!” she called back, her voice a bit choked. She ran for the ladder that would take her up to where they were - though exactly what she would do when she got there, she hardly knew. She only knew that Cullen needed her.

He pushed his way past Samson with his good shoulder, putting himself between his former comrade and the top of the ladder where Evvy would emerge. “Evvy, stay there, I’m afraid he might hurt you.”

“I’m afraid he might hurt _you_ ,” she replied. “Worse than he already has, I mean.”

He deliberated for a split second, then called back to her. “At least let me come to you,” he said, then spun back to face Samson, looming over him with a deep growl of warning. “It’s. Over,” he snarled. “Get out of my house.” He snatched the bow from Samson’s hands with his paws and hurled it off of the watchtower.

“Don’t kill me!” Samson pleaded, cowering. Evvy, watching from the floor below, smirked to herself; she always knew he wasn’t as brave as he pretended. Cullen gave a sharp nod, then turned and slid down the ladder to where she stood waiting.

“You’re hurt,” she said anxiously, moving to examine the wound.

“It’s nothing serious,” he assured her, remembering the little joke they had shared when he was last injured like this. “I’m sure I’ll live.” After a moment, his gaze turned soft as he watched her. “You came back.”

“Of course, of course I came back, I always meant to come back,” she assured him. She would have said something else, but instead she jumped in shock as he suddenly roared with fresh pain. Samson had slipped down the ladder behind Cullen and rammed a dagger into his kidneys. As she caught her flailing lion, however, Samson lost his balance; staggering backward, he failed to catch himself on the small window’s ledge and plummeted down to the ground below with a sickening crunch.

Right away, Cullen could feel this wound was different - it hurt too much and was radiating through too much of his body for it to be a simple surface wound like the one in his shoulder. He could already feel the world around him going a bit dim as he slipped from Evvy’s arms and sagged to the ground.

“Cullen… Cullen, no, please, no. Stay with me, I’m here,” she said anxiously, trying to stem the bleeding with her gown. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear it.”

The worst part was that he could hear the truth of her words. Oh, in another life, things might have been different… “I’m afraid it’s my turn to leave,” he said softly, wincing in pain as he did so. “But… at least I got to see you… one last time.” He blinked up at her, drinking in the sight of her emerald eyes before his own eyes began to flutter closed.

“No!” She pressed her hand more firmly to his wound. But as his head sank to the floor, she realized the truth in a mounting jumble of horror and heartbreak. “Come _back_ ,” she begged him, tears spilling. “Please… please… come back…”

Inside the villa, underneath its crystal dome, the rose lost its final petal.

* * *

The rest of the Grand Forest inhabitants did not yet know of the heartbreak upstairs. But even as they celebrated their victory over the mob, they soon discovered the fact that the last petal had fallen from the rose and that their time was up at last. It was Dorian who learned the truth first. He had one arm around Rosalie jubilantly and felt her grow stiff in his grasp. “Ro… Rosalie. No, no, no. Rosalie, stay with me.”

“Branson…” Josephine’s words were halting and weak. “You were… so brave… goodbye, my love.”

“Josie…” There was pain in Branson’s gaze as he watched his beloved, who had been so long out of his reach, revert completely into a wardrobe. “Josie, my darling, no. Don’t leave me…” His own words were swallowed up as he too froze.

A second later, Mia’s frantic shouting could be heard as James carried her over. “Ro! Bran! Oh, no… Oh…” She closed her eyes and, with a moan of sadness, James gently set her on top of the piano that had once been Branson Rutherford, before he also became motionless.

Dorian and Cassandra had observed all of this, and now they turned to one another. “Dorian,” said the clock, becoming stiffer by the second, “I can’t… it… goodbye… my friend…”

Dorian bowed to her as much as his rapidly freezing limbs would allow. “It has been… an honor to know you… Cassandra. An… honor.” And with one final look around the silent villa, he became inanimate.

The house was still and deathly quiet, as even the last candles burned low and extinguished. For a long, long moment, there was nothing save the muffled weeping of Evvy in the watchtower, where she pressed her face into Cullen’s shirtfront. “Come back,” she kept pleading. “I love you.”

From out of the swirling snow, ignoring the guards and the townspeople, a hooded figure suddenly appeared and made her way through the villa. Her step was light as though she were treading on the air itself. Wordlessly, she made her way to where the book lay on Cullen’s desk, where the ashes of the rose were piled beneath the crystal which had guarded it for so long. Slender hands emerged from the folds of her robe, and as a golden light emanated from her fingers and started to fill the space, the rose burst into new life.

Up in the watchtower, the same golden glow began to wind itself around Cullen, pulling his body away from a speechless Evangeline and lifting it into the air. The light was brilliant, blinding; she couldn’t see what was happening. And then it dissipated, revealing him standing before her, whole and… human. She got to her feet, unable to articulate even a hint of her astonishment, as he turned around and looked at her.

All traces of the lion who had so long dwelled in Grand Forest were gone. The paws had become strong hands, the mane a tight mass of blonde curls, the snarling countenance a handsome face with a slightly scarred lip. The only thing that remained exactly the same were the brown eyes, which studied her now with steadily mounting euphoria.

Evvy stumbled a little, as the stolen memories suddenly crammed themselves back into her head so forcefully that it almost knocked her off her feet. “It was you,” she said, dazed. “I - I remember now - I was sent to Ferelden to marry the Lord of Grand Forest, for a peace treaty. To marry… you.” She blinked, and heat flooded into her face.

He nodded, smiling a little shyly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was me,” he confirmed. “It _is_ me, actually. I probably should have told you. But I thought… well, I thought maybe it could happen… on its own.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “And what are you thinking now?”

He chuckled slightly, his smile widening. “Well, I’m here and I’m human, aren’t I? So I’m thinking there’s a good chance it all worked out in the end.”

“How did you break the spell?” she managed to ask.

“I didn’t. You did,” he said. “Well, I mean, I had a little something to do with it, it was a two-way spell after all. But, well… the spell had a little stipulation that it would break if I could… learn to love someone, and have them love me in return.”

“Ohh, _that_ was what nobody was willing to tell me.” Evvy nodded. “It makes sense now.” She paused, and the enormity of what he’d just said caught up with her. “Oh…”

He watched her, his brow furrowing slightly. “At least… I’m fairly certain that was the stipulation.” She looked befuddled and for a moment he wondered if he had made some sort of error. But he had spent the past few months learning to ignore the voice in his head that told him to doubt, so he shook his head instead. “Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve wanted you to know this for a while now. I love you, Evangeline.”

Her expression cleared, and a bright smile broke across her features. “I love you too. I… have for some time, I think, but until you gave me my freedom I didn’t let myself admit it.”

“I think that’s when I finally knew for sure as well. Or, at least, when I truly understood. In that moment I knew that I would rather live as a lion forever than keep you here against your will.”

“But here I am.” She took a step closer to him. “I meant what I said… I won’t ever leave you again.”

The look in his eyes was soft and he smiled at her statement, before closing the final distance between them and kissing her tenderly.

* * *

This was, it seemed, the only thing lacking before the spell continued to be undone throughout the villa. The snowfall ceased; the clouds parted to reveal the rising sun; and in the main hall, Branson suddenly found himself lying on the floor with his eldest sister sitting on his back. “Uh. Hi.”

It took Mia Rutherford a moment to process what was happening. “Branson?” she said, her voice thick with shock. Before he could answer, she threw her arms around his neck in a forceful hug that nearly made them both topple over. “Oh, I’m sorry. Sorry.” She clambered off of him, looked at him for a moment, and then launched herself at him for a second time. “Sweet Maker, is this really happening?” she said with a laugh of delight.

“It is!” cried another voice, and Rosalie sprinted to fling herself on both of her siblings. “Oh, Mia! Bran! We’re _us_ again!”

“Ro!” Mia wrapped her arms around both of them, kissing their foreheads and weeping tears of joy. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you both! And Cullen! This must mean Cullen’s back to normal too! We should find him!”

But before they could do that, they were interrupted by a shriek of joy, and Mia freed Branson from her embrace so he could rise to meet Josephine, who was bounding towards him as fast she possibly could without tripping.

“Josie!” he crowed, catching her in his arms and spinning her around. “Oh, darling, _at last_.”

“Hey, don’t forget me,” said Dorian, only too happy to take Branson’s place embracing Rosalie and Mia. “Maker’s breath, I almost forgot how pretty you girls are. And how pretty I am! Well, no, I could never forget that, but look at us!”

“Oh, please. You really aren’t as handsome as you think, Dorian,” cut in another voice teasingly. Cassandra strode over to the little group, folding her arms with a little grin. “It’s good to see you all again. _Really_ see you, I mean.”

“Excuse me,” said a new voice, “but… could someone tell me what’s going on around here?” They turned to find Mahanon, standing in the doorway, looking absolutely bewildered. “I just suddenly remembered why the little lady and I are in Ferelden, but… this is not what I expected.”

Cass blinked at him for a moment. “That’s… a bit of a long story,” she stammered.

“A story which I’m sure you will be only too happy to tell him,” Dorian said with a smirk. Mahanon, trading his puzzled expression for an amused one, offered her a courteous bow.

The villagers, now curious rather than crazed, were also trickling into the hall. “Rose!” shouted the young man Rosalie had identified as Krem. “Rose, I remember!”

“Krem! Sweetheart!” She ran to him and hugged him firmly. “I’ve missed you so much! Oh, it’s been years for us. Please tell me it hasn’t been that long for you.”

“Months,” he said, his arms still around her. “But that was long enough.”

Dorian was likewise being reunited with the man he’d called Bull, and Arl Teagan finally arrived to see just what had happened. As their old neighbors and friends rejoiced at once again meeting with the villa residents, Mia happened to turn her head. “Oh…” she breathed. “Cass… look.”

Cullen and Evvy, hand in hand, had emerged from the watchtower and come to find his family. A hush fell over the hall, but only briefly, as James was the first to approach and offer a bow. “Oh, my lord, it’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again too, James,” he said warmly, clapping the seneschal on the shoulder. After a moment, his gaze roved to where the rest of the household stood and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, Maker. Mia, Bran, Ro… oh, all of you, just look at you!” His voice was thick with emotion as he saw them all standing before him.

Mia was openly weeping; Rosalie, almost the same; and as if in the same breath all three of Cullen’s siblings rushed to envelop him in a family hug. Evvy stood back, a little shyly, and watched the scene with a smile. His arms were nearly able to reach around them all at once; he clutched them as though for dear life, kissing his sisters’ foreheads and fighting back tears of his own.

“You did it, Cul,” Mia whispered past her tears. “We all knew you could. We never doubted you.”

“And you thought you had let us down,” Rosalie added, laughing. Cullen merely smiled and nodded, too overwhelmed to actually speak.

“So…” said Mahanon, addressing himself to Cassandra, “exactly what _did_ happen here?”

“We were all cursed - Cullen as a lion, the rest of us as household objects,” she explained. “The only way the spell could be broken was by true love. Come to think of it, now that the curse is over and I can look at the whole thing objectively, it was all terribly romantic.” Her eyes sparkled a bit.

“It does sound a bit romantic. I might even forgive him for throwing me in the tower,” he joked. “Especially since the little lady’s eyes are about as starry as yours. Ah - we haven’t been introduced, have we? Mahanon Lavellan, personal protector of the Lady Evangeline, at your service.”

“Cassandra Pentaghast, formerly - and, thank the Maker, no longer destined to be - a mantel clock. And, ironically enough, _also_ Lady Evangeline’s protector. Or, at least, that’s what I was hired to be.” She smiled a bit shyly as she extended a hand for him to shake.

He took the hand she offered and bowed over it instead. “I gather we’ll be working together closely, then. I have to warn you; she’s a handful.” He glanced across the room with a grin to where Cullen was finally releasing his siblings from the stranglehold hug.

“I think I can manage it,” she said, looking in the same direction and smiling all the wider. “After all, I dealt with the lion over there for years. Even before his lion days. I’m used to handling the tough cases.”

“I’ll get ready for retirement, then,” he teased her.

* * *

Evvy, unable to hear the way she was being affectionately slandered, was instead preoccupied with being introduced to the actual human forms of the objects she’d come to know. “This is all a little… crazy,” she said, laughing. “But I’ll take it. I guess, um, I guess I have to remember where I stashed that wedding gown I brought with me from Ostwick…”

“Well, some of your gowns are here already,” Josephine said with a chuckle. “Which is how I was able to find one that fit you so perfectly your first night here. But I’m not sure if your wedding gown is among them.”

Cullen, meanwhile, was beaming a bit at the notion, although he still looked a bit like a man in a very pleasant form of shock. “Oh, yes, quite right. Now that everyone remembers us again, I’m sure there will be more than a few nobles who expect a wedding post haste.”

“Not to mention the King,” said Teagan with a laugh, coming to shake hands with the restored lord. “He must feel quite puzzled at suddenly remembering you exist.”

“Arl Teagan, it’s good to see you.” Cullen chuckled, then sobered a bit and turned to Evvy. “And your parents too. They probably want to hear from you.”

“I’ve written to them several times, but they never send much of an answer. I’ve been asking for months why I’m here - now I’m wondering if the spell was erasing that part of my letters,” she mused. “It would explain why they don’t seem perturbed.”

“Well, at least they aren’t terribly worried.” He shook his head. “Maker’s breath, what a strange curse. I’m glad it’s over.” To say he was _glad_ was probably the understatement of the age, but it worked well enough for his purposes.

“Me too. It’s not exactly the way I’d have chosen to be introduced to my bridegroom,” she added, “but… well, you can’t say it wasn’t effective.”

He chuckled slightly at that. “Nor me to my bride. But… well, ever since the betrothal began - even before the curse - I found myself wishing for a marriage of love, not of duty, even though I thought such a thing to be impossible for myself. It looks like I got exactly what I wanted.”

“So… how soon should I retain the services of the Revered Mother for you?” the Arl inquired, amused. “She’s probably awake by now.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Cullen asked, looking around as if to gauge opinions. “For now I think we all have a lot of catching up to do. And I’m looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed for the first time in years.”

“I think tomorrow sounds like a good plan,” Evvy agreed. She beckoned for Mahanon to join them and started making introductions. “If I can’t find the wedding dress, well, I’m sure Josephine can help me put something together,” she added with a little grin.

Josie giggled. “Oh, yes, it would be my pleasure. It will be nice to not have to hold all the clothes myself, too.”

“Dorian?” Mia asked teasingly. “Is tomorrow too soon for you? You are our events planner, after all.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Considering I’ve been planning their wedding since Evvy first walked into the villa, I’m well prepared.” His eyes sparkled with mirth, but something about his tone made it seem like he was only half teasing. He smiled at Evvy and made a low, sweeping bow. “And by the way, it’s very good to _actually_ meet you, my lady.”

She laughed, and curtseyed. “Likewise, serah. I see the mustache is even as grand and glorious as I was told.”

“Isn’t it just? I’m quite pleased to have it back.” He stroked it thoughtfully. “Ah, and now that I can actually play the lute again, prepare to be even more impressed! The music at your wedding will be nothing short of legendary, I can assure you.”

“You’re all leaving out the best part,” Branson protested. When they looked at him in some confusion, he grinned. “You never, ever, _ever_ have to listen to me play the piano again!”

The entire household laughed heartily at that and Josephine pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling widely. “Now,” Mia said cheerfully, clapping her hands together, “who would like a cup of tea? As long as I’m not the one pouring it.”

* * *

So the following afternoon, _finally_ , Mahanon got to fulfill his duty in giving away the bride. Evvy made a point of returning the favor by blithely throwing her flowers in Cassandra’s direction.

Did they all live happily ever after? Well, I imagine that they quarreled sometimes and now and then the taxes were raised and occasionally someone got sick.

But for the most part, they were happy. Which is all anyone can ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please to be leaving a token in the little box. :)


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